


Razorback

by Starr_Reborn



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Abuse, Adora and Catra need hugs, Drabble, Drama, Emotional Manipulation, F/F, Fucked Up, Have I said I'm sorry cuz Ya Girl Super Duper Sorry over here, Heavy Angst, Honestly Adora hurts my soul, Honestly So Dramatic, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I'm Going to Hell, I'm Sorry, Inspired by Music, Mind Manipulation, Oops, Shadow Weaver is a creep, Stream of Consciousness-ish, Super Angsty Trash™, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author is making this Too Long, The Sword Liiiiives!, They'll get those?, Things will get better?, You get sadness and You get sadness YOU ALL GET SADNESS, and each other, eventually?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2019-09-19 15:35:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 29
Words: 23,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17004369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starr_Reborn/pseuds/Starr_Reborn
Summary: I cut my hands on the sharp edge cracks when I run my fingers down your razorback





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE FLUFFY. I SWEAR OFFICER. I just wanted to write a happy silly thing about Catra doing cat things OK? About purring and bumping heads and smells and just FUN cat things!

Starting from about seven years old, she has nightmares about Shadow Weaver.

Real bad ones.

* * *

They get worse as she ages.

More vivid.

More violent.

* * *

She's twelve when she works up the nerve to mention them to Adora. They're in the cot they share curled up but not asleep and she just  _wonders_.

"Do you ever have nightmares?"

Adora shrugs, shifts a little.

"Do you ever have nightmares about Shadow Weaver?"

She doesn't really answer then. Not verbally. But the  _Look_  on her face...

* * *

"I want you to know something." She's fifteen and the nightmares plague her less but every one she has is  _awful_. "So you're not confused, so everything is clear."

She keeps her panicked, terrified whimpers in her throat. A low sound, so soft it's almost noiseless, no louder than the grinding of her back teeth. She couldn't be quieter if her jaw was wired shut. It's all she's got.

Her screams.

Nightmare Weaver bled them out of her for years and it's All She's Got.

"This isn't punishment," it  _feels_  like punishment. "I'm not doing this because you've done anything wrong. It's never been about that." She bites her tongue, very nearly bites through it. Tears are fine, they don't hurt or help her silent protest. "I just don't like you. I just like to see you  _squirm_."

* * *

Sometimes Adora smells like Shadow Weaver.

_A lot._

It's not a good smell. Not that Shadow Weaver stinks like something sour, because that's definitely not it. She just smells like the exact opposite of all things that she would consider good.

She hates it, Adora never knows what she's talking about when she asks why. She doesn't like asking anyway. The  _Look_  doesn't return but there's something like a ghost of it flickering over her face.

* * *

There are bruises on Adora.

On her thighs and on her neck.

She sucks in the sharpest breath when she sees them. She does not cry she does not whimper and grind her teeth when she sees them. She almost asks. The words are right there on the tip of her tongue and they could teeter on that edge for years, for decades, for eternity.

But she won't speak them, can't speak them.

Because Adora  _reeks_  like Shadow Weaver.

And. And because Adora notices them and goes very still and very quiet.

* * *

She howls in pain during the next Nightmare. No grinding teeth no subdued whimpers. She writhes and twists her spine in angles that should snap it like a dry twig and shrieks and stares.

 _Glares_.

When she can breathe enough to speak she spits out,

"Th-they, they're not. Not nu-nightmares are they?"

Shadow Weaver does not laugh. She wouldn't know if the woman smiles. But she does draw closer. Closer.  _Closer_.

"You're a little old to be having night terrors."

* * *

"We should leave." Adora stares at her like she's gone mad. She stares back, a forced calm keeping her expression impressively neutral.

"Our... bed?"

She doesn't say anything. Just stares at Adora staring at her with eyes half-lidded. A minute could pass. An hour. Realization dawns and there's that flicker over her face.

"We can't," Adora's eyes finally cut away. She could almost be frightened. There's something easily understandable in the next words, a tone, " _Shadow Weaver._ "

If Adora shivers and shifts, if Catra shifts a little closer and curls into a tighter ball, neither of them acknowledge it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She's lying to herself.

_It's A Reward._

* * *

Shadow Weaver Loves her.

She says so.

Adora doesn't like that word. It feels dirty.

* * *

_Because She's A Good Girl._

* * *

Catra doesn't get Touches.

Not like she does.

It's only on her head, her face, her shoulders her arms her hands. They're nice. She's warm.

Sometimes though. Sometimes they make her shiver. Sometimes they make her twitch. Sometimes they make her feel Loved.

* * *

_She Deserves This._

* * *

Catra disappears sometimes in the night.

They do most things together but she's not upset really she's not. She thinks it's just 'cause of The Nightmares. Catra has them a lot. It's why they share a bed. It's how she finds out.

She has trouble remembering her dreams.

* * *

_For All Her Hard Work._

* * *

She might sleepwalk.

It's something she considers anyway.

Catra hasn't mentioned that she had or does and. And maybe she should ask. She's not afraid to but something  _twists_  when she thinks about it. Cold and sharp.

* * *

_Such A Good Soldier._

* * *

Catra hates Shadow Weaver.

She can tell by the way that tail whips when the woman is near. She gets it. Shadow Weaver is not really the most approachable person. She's barely a person.

She kind-of hates it. A lot.

S. Sometimes she. Wishes Shadow Weaver Loved Catra.

_C **o** L **dA** N **dShAr** P_

* * *

_Such A Good Girl._

* * *

She's the best. She works the hardest for it. She's praised for it and it's good very good.

Shadow Weaver is proud of her and it's good very good.

Catra rolls her eyes but smiles and it's so good it's so very good.

But she cries in her sleep and there are bruises on her kneesarmsneckchest and scratches and and and

And she could be sick but she feels Loved.

It's good.

Very good.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're laughing 'cause it's funny how you're fooling everybody but me

Adora is serious about it. About it all. She's dedicated. And she's really kind of unfairly good at being a Horde soldier.

Cadet.

_Whatever_.

But she. She struggles. It's insulting. It's unsettling. How why can she does she try  _so hard_  and fail  _so spectacularly_  and for a person that

Adora is different when they're alone. Softer. She smiles and sometimes it lights up her eyes. Sometimes she isn't  _haunted_  by the lingering presence of...

She's overcome with urges to leap on Adora, cling to her drag her away and outside of the walls. Adora smells nice in the sunlight. The salt of her skin warmed by more than just the blood in her veins.

It chases away the Shadows.

* * *

The Nightmares lessen. They never completely leave. But they lessen and that means everything.

* * *

Adora functions. And survives. With her without her it's hard to tell.

In simulations she watches and Adora is  _Alive_. Her heart pounds and her eyes shine and her lips are curving at the ends. She's truly confident. A force of nature. A beautiful powerful thing.

She's almost jealous, though she'll never admit it. Not aloud anyway.

What does it mean to have what Adora has? To be adored and admired by their fellow cadets? To be  _Adored_  and  _Admired_  by Shadow Weaver?

She's almost jealous but not quite.

* * *

She becomes very good at playing a part. Something lazy and half-wild. Something almost effortless.

Adora might love it but she'll pretend she doesn't. They're all very good at pretending here. Like this house, this Horde, is a home. It's not.

It'll never be but they'll all try their best.

And she does that for Adora. Adora can't be so serious and then so empty. She can't crutch herself with combat or she'll fade.

* * *

Maybe she should have tried harder. Been better.

It could be a regret.

She'd just  _watched_  hadn't she? She'd tried to be supportive. Had even occasionally tried to be like Adora. But she's not. Not like the girl with eyes glazing.

At least Shadow Weaver only threatens her. Maybe lashes out rarely and in the light of day.

The Nightmares have stopped.

And Adora is a Force Captain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeeyyyyy how's it hangin? Welcome back. I'm glad peeps are enjoying this. They're short so I worry. Anywho


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Convince yourself you're happy, I hope that it's enough

_She Does Not Jump At Shadows._

* * *

She is forged of fire, of steel.

She is powerful and she knows this.

Has fought for it, bled for it sweat for it she has done So Much.

And it Is Not Sleepwalking.

* * *

"Hey Adora," there is nothing softer than the curl of a tail around her wrist. She never feels cold, never really notices it until Catra's there and she's flush with warmth. "Oh! Or should I say, Force Captain?"

Catra grins but her eyes are flat.

She could almost flinch.

Instead she smiles and laughs and it feels a little breathless, sounds a little forced.

"Sure,  _Cadet,_ whatever you want." And she shrugs and kinda tilts her head a little to look down her nose. And there she is, a Catra fierce with teeth bared and eyes full of fire. Her own lips split and there's more in this laugh.

Catra laughs too but pounces and it's So Nice.

Catra smiles and she smiles back but only because she has to sink her teeth into the desperate words begging to spill out of her mouth.

Things like,  _Stay with me tonight._

Things like,  _Don't do that she's watching._

Things like,  _You always knew didn't you?_

* * *

_No Matter How It Feels It Never Feels Right._

* * *

She's exhausted but hyper aware. She watches every shadow and knows when they Do Not Belong. She's very intimately aware of those.

She can lose them.

Not for long but long enough.

"What's up,  _Captain?_ "

Her smile is weak but her eyes are wild.

"Wanna get outta here?" Catra blinks once twice thrice. Her tail swishes. Her head cocks and her lips split but it's not in a smile and she says,

"What?" with all the eloquence that Catra says anything. That is to say, very little. Her smile is a little stronger for it.

"I may have stolen some keys..."

Catra didn't know she had it in her.

Catra doesn't know this isn't for her.

* * *

There's no relief in opening her eyes in the undergrowth.

She breathes and she is alive and those are facts but she does not like them. If she could have been  _spared_  the pain of failing to

There is a weapon. A beautiful sword.

And she wants it more than she's ever wanted Freedom.

It  _Whispers_.

And then she is gone and then It is gone and there's Catra and quite suddenly it's just Not Enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super drunk. Hiiiii wine was involved in the making of this!! Need bed goodnight all. Err. Morning


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Distance, distance keeps you safe

She watches Adora disappear.

She's there physically of course but when they get back Shadow Weaver is waiting for them.

The woman barely spares her a glance and scoff.

But  _Adora_...

The blonde stands at attention, spine straight shoulders pulled back chin up. And her eyes are  _empty_. It's more than glazing over it's so much more and dread like an icy rock drops into her stomach.

Because Shadow Weaver is smiling and she can hear it in the way she coos at the empty shell parading about as her best friend,

"And where have you been, Adora?" There's something incredibly intimate about the way that monster touches Adora. The way she reaches out to cup Adora's cheek and then the way her hand slides down and back to

"Scouting, Shadow Weaver." She doesn't even realize she's spoken until Adora cocks her head and those ice chips in her face are just barely shining. But she did speak and the whipping tendrils of darkness that crawl towards her...

She drops to a knee, head bowed as deeply as she can stomach. It's actually quite deep.

"We were scouting. I apologize, it was my idea." And deeper she bows until her nose is touching the floor.

There's a sniff, something like a hum.

And then,

"Well done Force Captain Adora." She doesn't lift her head to watch Shadow Weaver guide Adora away. She waits until they're gone and beats her fists against the floor until they're bruised and swollen.

* * *

She startles awake to a hand clamped tight over her mouth.

Adora's eyes hover over her and they practically glow with life. And fear So Much Fear.

She tries to say,  _Adora What!?_

She's shushed for the muffled noise.

"I, I saw something. In the, in the forest, the W-Woods." The words come at her frantic and fast. Kyle shifts, they both whip their heads over to stare but. Quieter, "I want to gu-go, Catra. I  _need_  to... Comewithme.  _Please._ "

And she just stares. This desperate trembling thing she'd watched fade away... It's the most Adora she's seen in years.

That icy rock hasn't gone though. Not since last week when it'd dropped into her stomach. Not since it'd started burrowing a pit there. She pushes Adora's hand away because she must, because she remembers this same offer and when she'd made it,

"But Shadow Weaver-" Adora flinches as though struck, looks behind and about her in wild nervous twitches of her head. She's shaking hard when she turns back and leans too close,

"We ca-can get away just you and me like old times an, and we can make our own place I I saw something in the Woods it it'll help I can feel it but but I can't I don't  _I can't_ , Catra I  _need-_ "

"Gods, Catra shut UP." If Lonnie had something to throw at them or more energy to sit up and turn... She doesn't.

Catra's eyes find Adora's and she doesn't speak but pleads and pleads and pleads as she stealthily shifts off and away, gesturing begging all but prostrating herself.

Catra watches her leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops my hands keep slipping. Going out for dumplings byeeee


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a loneliness you carry inside your heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Change my mind:
> 
> So three Pokémon on Adora's pokéteam, Munchlax, Rapidash, Aegislash. 
> 
> Catra I thiiiink Sandslash, Sneasel, Gengar.

It's gone.  _It's Gone._

It'sgoneIt'sgoneIt'sgoneIt'sgoneIt'sgoneIt'sgoneIt'sgoneIt'sgone  _ **IT'S GONE.**_

This cancan't be it can't she should've come back sooner she  _OH GODS_

It's not fair she she was Good she was So Good she did ev-everything right she didn't  _doesn't_  deserve

What's she going to do what can she do she's alone and lost and _It's Gone._

* * *

The forest shifts around like something alive. It watches without eyes and moves without limbs and breathes and lives without a body.

It's unsettling.

She couldn't go back if she wanted to.

* * *

_And She Does Want And She Hates Herself For It._

* * *

She finds something Ancient.

Covered in growth, vines and berries she can't be certain aren't poisonous. She finds she cares very little. She might even almost  _wish_

It's also covered in words.

Nothing she recognizes but something she  _can_  read.

She thinks little of it.

There's something special about this crumbling ruin, something about it that won't let her leave. Or maybe that's the forest. It takes her in circles and she could weep or scream but she just breathes and exists and worries. And waits.

For The Shadows.

* * *

A woman arrives calling her Mara.

She's almost tempted to Take Care of this clearly delusional creature. Any eyes could be,  _Are_ , bad. Probably just reporting back to Sha...  _Her_.

She can snap the Madame's neck at any moment and she honestly isn't sure what stops her.

She thinks it's the being alone. She's  _Never_  been alone. And it's been days since she's slept and she just, she really, she  _needs_  someone there so she can just rest her eyes just a few moments Madame Razz might not be trustworthy but it's just a few just a Few Moments is all she needs.

* * *

_Sleep Brings No Rest There's Darkness Behind Her Eyes._

* * *

She can't stay here.

She knows it and Madame Razz knows it, even goes about saying it in that way of hers.

She doesn't know where else to go. She's fairly certain turning herself out into the forest will put her back at The Monument. But there's little choice.

The Shadows will come if she stays in one place too long she  _Knows_.

And besides, when Madame Razz isn't spouting nonsense she talks of The Sword.

She can still hear It Whisper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dumplings were super tasty. So is getting to show my sweet bby the new She-Ra. If you're crying an you know it clap your hands!!
> 
>  
> 
> Tell me your thoughts, thank you guys for seriously being sofa king sweet about my little blurbs I'm overjoyed by the response to this! I'll be back with more later


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You gave it all to me to keep from tearing you apart

The first day is the longest.

But it passes.

Minute after minute, hour after hour, the sun rises and sets and there are no words no whispers in the corridors, locker room, mess hall.

* * *

The second day passes faster than the first but she finds she's tense every second of it.

She keeps waiting because. Because she knows that Shadow Weaver must have well and noticed Adora's disappearance. It's been two days and Shadow Weaver  _must_  know but she hasn't  _said a word_.

She hasn't even seen that evil witch in the two days Adora's been gone.

And that's  _exactly_  what worries her so much.

* * *

The third day, looking back, is the worst.

Not for any reason but for how blissfully wonderfully falsely calm it is. She allows herself, on the third day, to be calm and content. Let's herself yearn and hope for Adora, her safety her health.

Everything is for her, it's always been. Out there neither of them knows anything. They've got their training and each other but no knowledge of the world, not really. She's no idiot, she knows what everyone thinks about The Horde.

She can help Adora from here.

Run interference, buy her time. She can keep an eye on Shadow Weaver. She'd rather know where the woman is than that she's just  _Out There_.

And that third day she dares to relax. Dares to think that just  _Maybe_  things will be alright.

* * *

And then the Fourth Day.

She is dragged quite literally kicking and screaming into Shadow Weaver's quarters.

Shadow Weaver demands to know where Adora is but she doesn't know. Even if she did she'd never tell this awful bitch.

And so she's beaten bloody. She is accused of collusion. Beaten bloodier.

But she's ever loyal and only glares and spits and hisses at this monster in a mask. It's all for nothing. When Shadow Weaver grows bored she stops, releases her most paralyzing magic.

She drops to the floor, left to lick her wounds but not dismissed.

Worse than the beating is being told that Shadow Weaver knows  _exactly_  where Adora is. The woman had been tracking her, of course, and it's...

According to Shadow Weaver, it's  _her_  responsibility to bring Adora back.

* * *

Nobody even looks twice at the bruises. They never have.

Homes and pretending.

She's given a small squadron and sent to what's left of Thaymor. They'd razed it to the ground a week ago. Days before Adora left. Adora had led the charge then.

It'd been a slaughter for those that resisted.

There weren't many that'd resisted.

Adora is tragically easy to find. She looks  _awful_. Like she's barely eaten anything, barely slept. Like she crawled through every bit of muck and mud that the Whispering Woods holds. Like she's small and defenseless and decidedly Not Adora.

It's.

Her insides twist and churn and she cannot reconcile this Adora with her Adora. They're so clearly the same and they. She  _can't_.

"Cat-" she shuses the bedraggled blonde, casts her eyes twitches her ears takes in a deep breath to taste the air for the rest of her squadron. They aren't near. And Adora doesn't call her name when she gives the go-ahead.

Instead she scrambles out of the ruined hut she'd been crouching in to crush herself against Catra. There are sniffles and the lightest tremor but she doesn't cry. The lowest trance-like murmur is pressed into her neck,

"ImissedyouImissedyou _Gods_ howImissedyou." Again and again. And Adora draws back. Well, the desperate shaken thing that lives in her body does.

And it's  _Not Fair._

Shadow Weaver could have just  _Hated_  them. She could've just beaten them both for kicks, she understood the beatings an and how to  _Deal_  with them, with the aftermath with The...

 _This_.

She does not know  _This_. What to do with it how to help.

She flinches when rough, shaking hands find the bruises on her face, and it's not pity in Adora's eyes.

"W-we can go?" Adora's close enough to kiss her. "Ju-ust me and you. We'll protect each other. Lu-like old times? I. I I don't want to, I don't want you to go back there. Not alone.  _Please._ "

Kyle is a clumsy fuck but he'll do his damndest for The Horde and he's far too close, drawing closer.

"This is for you."

She'd wrapped some rations in an extra set of her own uniform, tucked a dagger into the folds as neatly as she could. Pretending was pretty fine when it made certain no-one looked too hard at her slightly lumpy chest.

"Shadow Weaver has been tracking you. Ditch your clothes,  _run_. Join the Rebellion, I don't I don't  _care_."

"CatCatra wait I'll, I'm, please I-"

"I'm not coming with you. I  _can't_." And she turns and she walks away, complaining as she meets cadets and soldiers that she can't smell anything with the blood and the bodies and the ever lingering acrid scent of smoke.

Their mission is marked a failure.

Shadow Weaver exacts  _many_  pounds of flesh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got outta hand. Welp. Oh! That "tasting the air " thing. Cats have scent glands on the roofs of their mouths.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So do what you do, what you do best

Catra's clothes are just a little tight and little short and it's probably the most comfortable she's felt in weeks.

Months.

 _Years_...

* * *

It's hard to overcome the sense of something like awe at the sight of what's Got To Be the rebel fortress of Bright Moon. It's breathtakingly beautiful. Much prettier than anything in the Fright Zone. It's.

It's a little intimidating.

She can hear the Whispers even awake. Promises of balance and peace.

She knows those words, what they mean how they're used. She can't help wondering why they feel Wrong. False.  _Fake_.

* * *

_But Catra Is Pretty And Hordak Is Pretty And Shadow Weaver Is Pretty And She Is Pretty And Doesn't She Miss Her Pretty Things Doesn't Doesn't Doesn't She Miss Miss Miss Them SuchAGoodGirlSuchAGoodSoldierSuchAPrettyLittleTraitor_

* * *

"Ex, excuse me. May I enter the for- the, the castle?" She knows how she must look. It's been days since she's had a chance to bathe properly. She'd never thought she'd miss that scentless grit scrub they use in the Fright Zone. Well.

But she did think that didn't she?

The guards, though. They look at each other, and then back at her. It's a pregnant pause a too tense silence. The one on the left speaks up,

"The refugee camp is over there," he indicates a hillock where tents are set up and people mill about. And she looks and she listens but there's no ringing in her ears, no hum in her bones. Her blood her body does not sing does not cry does not

"I need to. To be in the castle." She feels weaker than than  ** _Than_**

She feels weak but she pulls her shoulders back, lifts her chin, meets their eyes.

"Please?"

* * *

Her cell is well furnished and that.

Just.

_Why?_

It's so wasteful so unnecessary she's a  _Prisoner_. She'd expected to be killed outright.

She'd attacked the guards. Well. A guard. She knows she's weak because the energy it took to incapacitate just the one guard left her exhausted and open to be taken into custody by the second.

The singing in her blood hadn't ceased since she was dragged in here.

It's close to driving her mad.

* * *

_Too Good Too Smart Too Strong So Strong Powers And Princesses And Peace And Balance_

* * *

It can't be days but it might as well be.

The Woman that stands outside of her cell reminds her of Sh. Shadow Weaver. Powerful and Other, the way she stands the way her head tilts the way her eyes pierce.

To her credit, only her hands shake. She keeps them clasped behind her back.

Minutes pass. And then,

"Who are you?" The Woman even speaks with the same sort of Authority that Sh

"Adora, ma'am." She does not salute, but she's got enough sense and respect to bow. Briefly. She doesn't want her eyes off a person that's  _Authority_  and  _Powerful_  and  _Other_  and  _Not Shadow Weaver_  but like her.

"Why did you attack my guards?"

"I needed to get in here. Ah, th, the castle."

The Woman considers her. She waits. And remembers to Keep Eye Contact, to Breathe Slowly And Calmly.

"Where are you from?"

"The. The Fright Zone, ma'am." And The Woman, the look on her face, eyes narrowing mouth half-sneering.

" _What_  are you doing here?"

"The... It's. The Sword, ma'am. The Sword keeps...  _Calling_  me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My cat is almost toothless. Only his most frontly teeth are left. Poor beast
> 
>  
> 
> Hi ActuallyMe, I haven't said anything yet but I'm very quietly honored by all your words. 
> 
> Seriously to all you people just popping outta the woodwork, THANK YOU sofa king much, for allowing me to hurt you emotionally.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I bleed the most for something that I can't have

Training is painful.

Training is necessary.

Lonnie is still an unreasonable bitch. She's started nodding to her in the halls. Fighting  _fair_  in training sessions. They're  _The Horde_ , they don't play fair. They're born and bred to play dirty it's.

The Nightmares don't start again.

Shadow Weaver has nothing to hide anymore.

Sometimes The Witch will just strike out in front of the others.

It's almost embarrassing. Maybe if she cared about them or the sidelong glances...

* * *

Shadow Weaver squeezes another squadron out of Hordak. It takes two days and she's not quite lucky enough to be a part of it. It doesn't bother her.

Not really. Not when they leave. She knows Adora's gone, she was the one that sent her off. Adora, despite everything, is too tough to die in the wilds, too smart to have stuck around Thaymor.

She  _Knows_  this.

Then the squadron comes back with the tattered, bloody, remains of Adora's clothing. And it's Adora's blood staining them, she can tell and it.

Really kind of catches her off guard. For even a moment her heart throbs in her chest, the air freezes in her lungs and she truly thinks that Adora  _could_  be

But she isn't, of course.

She  _Knows_. She  _Knows_  Adora. Even the Adora that Has Emerged. The One that survives. That One that  _is_  surviving. Adora is alive and she Knows she Knows she Knows.

Shadow Weaver doesn't.

It takes hours for the blows to stop.

* * *

Lonnie is terrible. A horrid awful thing. A thing that stops by the bunk she used to share with Adora.

The scent of Her is ever fading. She was embarrassingly tempted to snatch a piece of the remains of Adora's favored jacket just to.  _She wasn't really sure._  Hide? Tuck into the sheets and preserve? It was all very needy of her.

She  _hated_  it.

But not as much as she hated Lonnie. The Bitch wouldn't even look at her but was still just standing there next to the bunk, making it that much harder to discretely breath in the fleeting smell of a sometimes sunny smile.

 _Ugh_. All this separation is turning her into a freak.

"Do you want something?"

Lonnie kind of snorts. She's got an annoying habit of cracking her neck when she's angry or. Breathing. Existing in general. Of course Lonnie does it now. It's  _obscene_.

She sneers. Lonnie sneers back.

" _What!_ "

"It's," Lonnie finally grunts out. Coughs. Meets her eyes and looks away. Rubs a hand on her neck and pops it again.  _Seriously_  with her. "It's too bad Adora's gone."

It. It really is. It's better, arguably. Because Adora's finally - probably - safe. Or saf _er_.

But,

"Yeah. It is."

"You're alone."

She jerks. She tries not to. It just really sounds like a threat. Her next words come out a hiss,

"Your point?" Lonnie looks at her for a long minute. Goes to pop her neck again. Fails. Scowls and rolls her shoulders in a shrug.

"It's too bad." She says again, kinda bunches up her shoulders and finally walks away.

It takes her too long to realize that Lonnie will never say she's sorry. 

And she really hates it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Watch classic She-Ra. Please everyone do that if you haven't in a while. I'm binging the fuggin Heck out of it right now. Jeeeeeeezus it's gold, my foggy memories did it NO justice.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And spend your life thinking you have to earn somebody's love

She is allowed to bathe and given new clothes.

 _Allow_  being a kindness of speech she doesn't owe, one she uses regardless. The Woman, Ma'am, demands of it with a sniff and a haughty shake of her head and, well, she's a prisoner. What can she argue?

Not that she would.

She doesn't wash entirely. Scrubs at the dirt with her nails and hands but without soap. They don't have scentless grit scrub. They're inefficient in  _something_  with a powerful, overwhelming odor. There is no grit and it's  _slimy_. It's a very unpleasant experience.

The tunic and trousers they provide are fine though. Fine enough.

Ma'am is Queen Angella but she will remain Ma'am. Because,

"I must beg you to pardon my rudeness, but I find it hard to respect royalty."

And so she is Ma'am. And so Ma'am leads her to a room where The Sword is kept.

It feels like there's sunshine in her bones, like there's music under her skin. And then she grasps The Sword.

* * *

Ma'am doesn't trust her.

She's not bothered by it. Ma'am has no reason to trust her.

There's an impression of a person trapped within The Sword but she is not the one Calling, Whispering, Singing. Light Hope just offers the lineage and little else.

The Sword speaks, long and often. When she's next to it, holding it. When she's not.

It brings her dreams.

* * *

_A Woman In Red With Eyes Of Blue And Hair Like Spun Gold. Tricked And Trialled Holding A Sword Aloft._

* * *

She is left in the cell with the fine furnishings. It bothers her little. The cot is too soft and the food is too rich. Makes her feel ill. But at least there are guards close by. They are not friends or friendly but she's not alone.

The Sword tells her she'll never be. Not now not again. Because It's here. And It won't leave her.

It's something like a comfort.

* * *

Light Hope spoke of Honor. And so The Sword does as well.

Honor had become another questionable word. Like Peace, like Balance. It does sound Good and Nice and Pretty but what does it mean to be those things? What does it mean to Honor and why should she Honor a thing she does not know?

This Grayskull means nothing, to Honor it means less.

But The Sword speaks and she has little choice but to listen and so she wonders and so she decides.

The Phrase is a key but the Intent is the doorway.

Honor is just a word.

Grayskull is just a place.

Balance and Peace are ideals, perhaps goals. She's got a goal. An  _Intent_. And The Sword sings when she grabs it, something that reverberates through her until she could sing herself.

"For the Honor of Grayskull."

* * *

_Taken In And Quickly Loved. A Natural Leader. A Brother A Father A Mother. Comrades. Adoration. Trust._

* * *

She meets another Princess.

Her eyes shine like starlight and she smiles like it's all she's ever known. She is Soft and Sweet. The Daughter to Ma'am. There are things about her likeable. She's easygoing like Catra and that's almost soothing.

Almost.

She's really not certain how to feel about The Daughter, this Glimmer. The girl is so utterly strange and, in a way, younger than she's  _ever_  been. A person raised in war but not for battle.

It's almost enviable.

 _Almost_.

* * *

She is allowed to train and it is the most comfortably familiar thing they've provided. There is Peace in perspiration, the kind that she knows. And besides, training is one of the few times they'll leave The Sword with her.

A guard always watches but they don't usually approach and it doesn't bother her. She feels more Herself than she's felt in years.

Ma'am is here today. Sometimes she'll pose a question, about The Sword about The Horde.

She answers to the best of her ability but for one.

"Why did you leave The Horde?" The answer she gives is, naturally, The Sword.

But Ma'am keeps asking.  _Staring_. Waiting for an answer that alludes her. What is she supposed to say? How much is she supposed to reveal? The Sword wasn't the breaking point? Thaymor wasn't the breaking point?

Is she. Does.

Is Ma'am Looking For A Good Soldier?

She can, she. She can  _Be_  ththat. Ififif she has to she.

"I left because of The Sword, Ma'am." She mops sweat from her brow and Keeps Eye Contact and Breathes Slowly And Calmly because she mustMust _MUST._

An eternity.

And then,

"I'd like you to join the War Council." It's not an invitation but she accepts with a low bow and a,

"Yes Ma'am."

* * *

_Born For The Power. The Gifts Come Easy. The Sword Suits Her. A Princess By Birth And Rite Of Passage. ButThisStoryIsNotHerOwn._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmmmmmmmm. The Adora chapters are about to get a little out of hand. Tiny bit. Just a touch.
> 
> HardlyHuman404, it kind of scares me when I write it actually, lowkey glad that comes across. Also, Thank You, you blessed thing.
> 
>  
> 
> And to the rest of you tree people popping out of the woodwork to be sweet enough to even glance at my humble offering of Super Angsty Trash ™ THANK YOU SOOOOFA KING MUCH


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You walk like you got all kinds of time

The first day Adora's smell is gone, well and truly gone, she's nearly overcome by the stench of the rest of this place. It coats her nostrils, the inside of her mouth the back of her throat. It's an awful, choking thing. Like burning hair or flesh.

The smell of the other cadets can't temper the stench, not the soldiers in the halls nor the eternal salty musty odor that clings to the training rooms, the locker room. It's all too much now.

It's nearly enough to drive a girl to harm.

And then she catches it.

Walking down a corridor she didn't usually frequent, sucking in half a lungful of air just to sigh it out. And she can taste it, taste  _her_.

Adora.

She might throw herself off the nearest teetering heap of stinking metal for the way her heart stutters then  _pounds_. She hates that it's only joy she feels, not confusion or hot painful fear. She's only so glad to be alone the way she takes to all fours to dash down the corridor like a thing possessed and  _leap_

She's caught around the throat, flipped and thrown into the nearest wall.

"Ooh my goodness, are you alright? I didn't even think, I just.  _Hey_ , you, I know you!"

Fucking  _Ow_. Who,  _what_

_That'sAdora'sjacket_

"What are you doing with that!"

Her name is Scorpia and she's probably the worst thing to ever happen to her. It's not even that Scorpia's like Shadow Weaver or Lonnie. Actually she's  _nothing_  like them. She's friendly and considerate, she talks a LOT and just.

She's seriously annoying. And a Force Captain. The only bearable thing about her really is that she'd freely given Adora's jacket.

She'd had a box of them - "I was the one that found her," and her pincers wheel through the air, face pinching in an awful sour sort of way. "Remains... It felt sorta like, maybe I should. Like I owed it to her?" - that she was going to.

 _Dispose of_.

Adora's alive. She Knows Knows Knows  _KNOWS_.

But there's something very Final about clearing out Adora's old quarters...

She offers to help carry out any other boxes without even thinking about it. So yeah, freely given the jacket and also a hug that makes her bones hurt.

* * *

Scorpia stalks her. No no, seriously she's just always hanging around. Outside of the training rooms, in the mess.

Lonnie sees her being assaulted by hugs and  _Laughs_. Not even in a mean way! It's utterly disturbing.

* * *

Shadow Weaver finds her in a hallway and she honestly doesn't know what stops The Witch from killing her. Her living shadows writhe and twist, crawling towards and around her and. It's not that she's never seen Shadow Weaver this agitated, it's just that there's usually something to prompt it.

Besides her existence or the fact that she breathes, of course.

" _You_ ," Shadow Weaver's always had a voice like the crawl of darkness. Low and slow and so very cold. "Both of you. Come with me.  _Now_."

Because yeah, her stalker is lurking ever near like the loudest, tallest shadow. She exchanges a look and shrug with that Tall Loud shadow, follows after the fuming Witch.

It's.

She's, she shows them a grainy video. Taken out at a Horde Camp in Plumeria. And it's  _Adora_. It's It's not but it IS, it's Adora on that screen. A newer variety, some creature she's never seen.

And Shadow Wherever bores holes as well she can with just her eyes. Scorpia squeals beside her, starts rapid fire talking an. And it could be anything she's saying but Catra can't even hear her.

Because that's  _Adora_  on that screen and Catra can scarcely breathe around the lump of her heart swelling and soaring in her throat.

Adoradoradoradoradoradoradoradoradora-

"Leave us Scorpia." And of course she does, it's an order and she's a Force Captain.

Lower.

Slower.

Colder.

" _You **Knew**  she lived. And you said  **Nothing**._"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wiiiiine I'm drinking wine an watching horror movies!!! More soon I've been chewing on Adora thoughts for forever but also WIIIIIIIINE


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ring you wear, it's heavy now

_A Hundred Stand Before Her. All The Same. All Different. And They Cry She-Ra She-Ra She-Ra She-Ra She-Ra She-Ra She-Ra_

* * *

The Body and The Strength are both very new to her, but ancient things she's adopted and nothing more. In The Body, with The Strength, all the voices in her ears it's so very strange but it. It feels Right.

Not Good,  _never_  Good.

They tell her she doesn't have to be Good.  _GoodGoodGoodGoodGoodGirl_

Never. Again.

* * *

She saves a people.

They scare her a little.

They're Too Much. They Admire and they Love and so many of them want to Touch her.

She is not herself around them. She remains in The Body with The Strength. They ask her to heal their land but she is new And This Story Is Hers, the powers do not come naturally. She's not The First, not like her though they share fates and features.

When she asks The Sword about healing...

"I. You can heal? So. Can I be..." She does not finish but she does not have to.

And The Sword does not sing.

The silence means So Much.

And so she cannot heal the land but she knows The Odor of Horde Poison better than she knows her own mind or memories  _GoodGoodGoodGoodGoodSoldier_  and so she decimates That Camp.

Viciously.

* * *

_The Sword Whispers Ever Ever Whispers But There Are Others Others Others She-RaShe-RaShe-RaShe-RaShe-RaShe-Ra And They Whisper And It's GoodGoodGoodGoodGoodFeelsSoGood_

* * *

"We've secured an ally, Ma'am." Glimmer and Bow do not understand why she genuflects so.

There will be no explanations.

"Good." _GoodGoodGoodGoodGoodGoodGoodGoodGoodSoGoodSoDelicious_

* * *

They wish to give her a room, out outside of the cell, up, up above among amongst everyone else and she.

She can't. She can't Can't CAN'T do that, she can't she  _Needs_

She requests an audience with Ma'am. Without the presence of Glimmer or Bow or the Lords and Ladies of the court. And the guards are there of course they are but that's fine, better even.

Until Ma'am dismisses them.

And She Can't Breathe.

But She Has To.

She keeps her head bowed and her knee, hands to the floor. And she Breathes Slowly And Calmly. Even though that slow an airflow feels like choking and the most perfectly round spots of darkness burst in her eyes.

"Adora,"  _MustNotFlinch_  "Adora,  _please_ , you mustn't be so formal we're. It's  _OK_. It's just us, tell me what you require?" Don'tLookDon'tLook

It's not pity. Or. It could be? There's something in Ma'am's eyes and if only she could be more still.

Perhaps if she ceased to breathe. But no. NOnononono none of that. She must do these things. For Honor and Balance and Peace and Grayskull and CatraCatraCatra _MissYouSoMuch_

"I'm. I. I'd like to stay. With. With my, in the room. I'm in currently, I'd like to stay in it. With the guards. Ah. Outside. It's. Safer, you shouldn't. I was a sol soldier, a a Good one."

Slowly And Calmly.

_**S** l **ow** ly **An** dC **a** lm **ly**_ **.**

"Adora,"  _MustNotNotNotFlinch_. "Why did you leave The Horde?"

* * *

She almost says,  _"Where is your beard?"_  when she sees him. But The Sword Whispers and she remembers that This Is Her Story and He is Her Sea Hawk.

There is nothing to betray. There is nothing to lose.

And so she challenges him and beats him soundly.

He's So Close to being uncomfortable but he never Touches her so she's never really bothered. Honestly he's funny. Very funny.

She enjoys his presence his humor, even despite his Need To Be Liked. She understands.

And so they go to Salineas and so she meets Her own Mermista

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I'm so disconnected from Adora's chapters. Brain does it on purpose, brains are such sweet babies.
> 
> I drank ALL THE WINE i should sleep. Better binge She-Ra instead


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Cause it makes us the same and that weighs you down

She almost starts purring. Gods but she  _does_  start purring. The waves lapping noisily at the hull cover it so very well but her throat feels thick and heavy and vibrates so hard it's a little difficult to breathe.

_Adora!_

Oh Adoradoradoradoradora! Sweet Adora. Wearing different skins but it's Adora  _all_  Adora. She does look very different - _ouufff_  - but there's no doubt. She can tell she can  _smell_.

And it does smell like her but it also smells More. Like the way it smells after a lighting strike. Sky Ripping Open and Adora and she  _glows_

It's a little breathtaking.

Everything is a daze until she's there, Right There. Inches away from eyes just Too Blue, a face just Too Defined. A jawline and cheeks already so perfectly cut the definition on them  _now_  seems almost cartoonish.

It isn't terrible but it is foreign. She just. She just stares at this person she almost knows. Without prompting she breathes,

"Hey Adora."

And the smile makes her feel a little weak.

"Hey Cadet."

She laughs and almost chokes on the need to purr and rub her cheeks into that so very unprotected throat and curl around that Too Large body. She fights and fights and  _wins_

"I missed you."

She cannot confess to tears asking her to do so is simply too much.

"Such an  _emotional_  Force Captain!" She braves, blubbers. And the hand is just slightly Too Big but the calluses are all Adora and the scrape of them, the thumb sweeping over her cheek...

"Such an emotional Cadet." So calm and even, reverberating within and around like a chorus of a thousand lend power to Her voice. She laughs again but it's not. Not a laugh. More of a sharp, hoarse bark. She reaches out to cup Adora's cheek the way Adora cups her own.

She's almost embarrassed by the gratuitous flood of fat tears but when nobody's around its so easy to just  _be_  with Her. Her eyes squeeze shut, teeth click together, she bites out,

"I'm Sorry, soSo sorry." and digs her nails into skin and  _riiiiips_

* * *

They fail to claim Salineas.

She is punished.

Scorpia notices the bruises and asks and asks and  _asks_  until she hisses and spits and tries to hurt her feelings.

* * *

Scorpia is stubborn.

She  _definitely_  hates it.

* * *

Promotion.

She takes Adora's job. They give her Adora's quarters.

And it's stale, the scent of Her, but it's still just barely there and nothing could be sweeter.

* * *

Scorpia won't leave her alone. And here she'd thought of the giant as a stalker  _before_. She's bathes and relieves herself by herself but in nearly every other moment the woman is  _there_.

Watching. Just. Just  _watching_. She never would've thought Scorpia could get worse, how tragic.

"What?" She rounds on the woman, tail lashing teeth gnashing. Scorpia just stares. " _What!_ " It comes out high and strained, voice cracking almost painfully.

"Are you ok?"

* * *

"What do  _you_  want?" She expects the slap.

She isn't disappointed. And Shadow Weaver hisses as she cradles her stinging cheek,

"Show some respect,  _girl_." She doesn't say  _Make me._  Shadow Weaver can't make her, but she  _can_  try and she lives for trying. And so she says nothing and glares. Shadow Weaver's eyes narrow but she never strikes out again, just turns dismissively, throwing over her shoulder, "Guard my door."

And maybe she should know better by now,

"Why?"

"Do not presume you have any authority to question  _me_. You  _Will_  guard my door, I will  _Not_  be disturbed  _or else._  Is that clear?"

"Crystal." she doesn't salute. Doesn't stick around to snoop despite curiosity that burns like fire in her veins. She's not fond of pain or Shadow Weaver, she won't lose sleep not knowing what The Witch is up to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funny how this story was supposed to be about Catra being a cute kitty and how seeing Adora makes her purr a lot. Chchchchchanges, turn and face the strange!
> 
> HardlyHuman404 I'm super honored by your animal cries, I swear I'll stop hurting you someday
> 
> ActuallyMe I'm not sure what to say actually. That was a weirdly deep question for me.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm afraid that weight is gonna make you drown

The three lines on her cheek are barely visible even in the light. Silvery pale like old burns, they don't even pull at her skin when she makes faces. They're not like the scars on her arms, her knees and places on her back and abdomen. Those were received before The Sword.

Those will stay.

On one arm she'd carved in  _Eternia_ ,  _Catra_  on the other. Both in that strange script she could read better than a battlefield.

At the time she'd just needed the blood to buy her a day of travel but she'd been overcome with the urge to make the blood letting mean  _something_. The outside of her forearms mean everything now.

The Sword and Voices appreciate her choice. They understand. No one else has bothered to ask though she's hardly around them enough.

Ma'am has certainly noticed. Her eyes grow just sharp when she sees them, cuts them up to her own and back like Ma'am can't decide between a harmless stare and stinging glare.

The Guard Captain approaches when she's in her cell. They leave the door unlocked and The Sword with her but Ma'am did allow her to stay and that is the greatest allowance, more than the training more than letting her be a Soldier.

"Adora." It's a summon and she answers the call as she has been trained to. At attention with shoulders back and spine straight, saluting. The Captain might almost smile, "At ease."

She cannot be at ease but she can, does, stop saluting. She bows deeply instead, barking at the floor,

"Captain! I thank you for your presence Captain, what do you require of me?"

"Would you,  _ahem_ , I'd like you to spar with us!"

* * *

She trusts Bow more than Glimmer. While his combat prowess leaves quite a something to be desired when he's without arrows or his preferred weapon, he  _does_  have experience and she will look to him outside of the castle.

She can't do the same for Glimmer. Wasteful, Soft Glimmer who desperately wishes to prove herself in battle. The Daughter of Ma'am and she's never even taken a  _life_. Bow hasn't either but he's not trying to prove he can without understanding what it means.

And so in Dryl she follows his every instruction.

The Sword screams when Robots approach, wild warnings of  _DoNotDoNotDoNotDoNotTouch_. She blasts them from afar. She quite likes the idea of Entrapta though the genius herself is intimidating. Not physically or even intellectually, though she does indeed possess an incredible intellect.

Just the way that she is, the way she approaches and studies, the way she asks and Touches without thinking. She's the very first person to wonder aloud,

"And what do these mean?" And  _Touches_  the scars.

She does not panic. The Sword and The Voices cry and croon and comfort in a cacophony that barely keeps her from dropping The Sword. And to Entrapta she imparts,

"For the Honor of Grayskull."

For Honor is just a word, Grayskull just a place, but Eternia and Catra are everything.

And The Sword sings.

* * *

_For The For The For The HonorHonorHonorHonorHonor Peace Of Balance Of Peace Of Balance Of GoodGoodGirlWon'tYouOpenThatPrettyMouth_

* * *

She's always been a light sleeper.

Most recently she's shaken awake by dreams that'd never been vivid.

Half of it is The Sword, The Voices. It's to educate and help her. She knows that much. She can tell she can feel.

But there's more. A thread twisting fraying unraveling. A dam breaking an and the water spilling out.

 _HealingHealingHealing_  They cry, insist. It doesn't feel like healing. Not the way The Sword is supposed to heal. With Power and Light and a heady rush of soothing warmth.

And to that end it had told her, or hadn't really, that it  _couldn't_. She'd asked and it'd. It hadn't sung it did  _Not_...

_UnravelUnlockUnravelUnlockHealingHealingHealing_

They're very demanding. She's little choice but to trust.

* * *

Ma'am calls for her. Just her.

She'd been with Bow and Glimmer and they. Hadn't been doing anything. Which is, to be very certain, one of the strangest things she's ever done. It's not very enjoyable. Involves a lot of chatter and. They expect her to  _chime in_.

It's a truly dreadful experience and she can't even really give them anything. No information no, no stories. So she forces laughs and nods and a few word-like grunts.

Ma'am calling for her is a wonderful thing, though she receives looks from her companions.

And that wonderfulness flees when she enters the room and Ma'am dismisses them. The guards the Lords and Ladies. If Ma'am were any more like Shadow Weaver the shadows would pulse and crawl. She watches but they don't.

It's little comfort.

"I wanted to thank you," Thank? She. Shesheshe doesn't mean a...  _Reward?_  "You've proven yourself time and again, our Rebellion flourishing since you've joined it. I... Had my doubts when you arrived but... "

Ma'am smiles. It's the least aggressive thing and she startles to see it.

And of course Ma'am notices.

_SheAlwaysAlwaysNoticesMustNotJumpAtShadows_

Ma'am approaches. And she tries to Keep Eye Contact and Breathe Slowly And Calmly but as Ma'am approaches she blinks and there's a flicker and Ma'am is no longer. The shadows do not dance but Their Weaver stands before her.

Her head drops and her body panics and she Does Not Absolutely Does Not Scream.

"Adora?"  _IsNotIsNotIsNotHerShe'sFarAwayLongGoneFrightZoneNotNotNot_  " _Adora!_ "

She shakes. She.

M-Ma'am is holding her cheek. It's an astonishing red, her face twisted like. PainAndShock.

She'd  _struck_  Ma'am.

_HorrorHotTightFearNausea_

Both knees, hands and her forehead touch the floor and she does not apologize but Begs Forgiveness. Ma'am does not draw closer, not close enough to Touch again. Quietly,

"Why did you leave The Horde?"

* * *

_Onnnn. Orrrrrr. Uuuuuuhf. Grrrrrrrace. Kullll. GoooodGoodGood Ohhhh PenYourLegs_

* * *

Mystacor is different. Floating in the clouds, protected by a magical barrier. She can't see Sorrowful anywhere. It is still beautiful though.

Ma'am had sent them here. She's not certain why, Glimmer and Bow have said nothing to her beyond that she was to join them. She thinks they're watching her. She thinks many things are watching her.

The dreams, the vivid vivid dreams aren't helping her. She's sleeping less and less.

She honestly can't imagine why their presence would be required in this place of Calm and Content, but she might be grateful to be brought along. She breathes a little easier here.

She learns what an Aunt is! It's G-

It is a calm time. A fine time.

And then she sees Her.

"We must leave." The Sword is in her hand in a heartbeat and The Sword and The Voices call to her. Bow and Glimmer and This Casta protest and cry for her attention but she does not relent. "This place is Not Safe. We must  _leave._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adora chapters are getting out of hand. Seriously way too long.
> 
>  
> 
> Hmmm why are all of you freaking out? Jeeeez


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm looking out for you but I don't think you wanna be found out

Scorpia finds her and there could be Nothing Worse.

Her head drops back and she lets out a rumbling, exasperated groan. Scorpia looks entirely too concerned and it immediately sets her teeth on edge. Maybe concerned isn't the right word.

But angry feels wrong too.

Annoyed maybe?

"What are you doing here?" And where does she get off asking questions that sound too accus- _Hey! she_

She she, she's fucking, Scorpia is  _Grabbing_  her, lifting her up and looking at her from all angles.

"Wha- what the fuck is  _STOP IT!_ " She's dropped and hits the floor in a crouch, tail lashing. "What's your problem!?"

"What are you doing here?" It's not an answer and for some reason - for  _every_  reason - that just infuriates her.

"Stop repeating yourself," she nearly snarls but Scorpia stays stony faced. She didn't think Scorpia  _knew_  how to serious.

"Answer the question." Fucking Bitch! This is why she's not friends with people they're more trouble than they're worth not like

_Not like..._

"Guarding the door," Her arms cross and head jerks to the side, jaw jutting out as her teeth clinch and grit. " _Obviously._ "

Because she can't resist snapping at someone showing genuine affection. She'd danced and slashed and beat her way around Adora just days - a week? More? Time crawls here it's hard to tell - ago and she genuinely loves that girl and

She  _Loves_  Adora? No that's. That's not. She doesn't  _Love_  Adora how can... She doesn't even know what Love  _is_  she can't...!

Can she?

"Why?" Why wha...? Oh! Oh right she was aggressively rebuffing any and all forms of noticeable care from the second person to ever not treat her like smoking garbage!

"You  _Really_  think  _She'd_  tell me  _Why_  I'm doing  _Anything?_ " And somehow that very rhetorical question manages to twist Scorpia's features into a deeper sort of decidedly sour.

"No," and Gods, she hadn't ever dared to imagine Scorpia could grumble so low in her throat. "I don't. I'll take over for you so just-"

"No!" That. Really came out of nowhere. She has No Reason to protest except maybe a twist in her stomach. Something baseless and unexplainable. "I. I  _got it_  so just." She shrugs, looks away again, mumbles out of the side of her mouth, "Leave me alone."

Scorpia stares. She does not stare back. She definitely doesn't see Scorpia scowl and cross her hulking arms over her chest.

"Fine," and she DEFINITELY doesn't glance at Scorpia. Scorpia who, besides having her arms crossed, is striding closer and. She. Scorpia moves to the other side of the door and sits down. "Then I'll be here too."

* * *

Hours.

 _Actual_  hours.

Fucking  _Why_.

* * *

She doesn't speak. She won't. She needs another friend like she needs an hour alone with Shadow Weaver.

She's not glancing at Scorpia. She's just not, ok?

"Sooo. I'm a princess."

One of her ears flicks. It Definitely does Not turn towards Scorpia. And she Isn't cocking her head towards the apparent princess. Because she doesn't care. Because she doesn't  _want_  to care and so she won't. Scorpia continues, chuckling,

"You'd know that. If you bothered with Force Captain Orientation."

She snorts, scoffs a little,

" _Fuck_  Orientation."

"I still think you missed out. I met Adora there!" Ok so she might be looking at Scorpia now. "I always liked her. She was a little serious but-"

"She had reason." She's not even angry she's really not it just slips out between her teeth in a hiss that feels like fire on her tongue.

Scorpia watches her. A look on her face, something, something  _searching_.

"I know. You too, right?"

" _You-_ " she's on her feet and her tail is whipping behind her and her lips are peeled back and she's breathing hard through her teeth and flared nostrils and she can'tCan'tCAN'T

"It's OK, Catra."  _It's Not OK_. "We don't. You don't have to say anything. It happens. Do your worst to your Soldiers, they'll never get hurt by their enemies."

"But this  _Isn't-_ "

"I  _know,_  Catra. But we're not talking about it, right?" She stares. Scorpia smiles back.

"...So why's a princess part of The Horde?"

* * *

She can hear Shadow Weaver, laughing and muttering in her quarters even through the door. Even with Scorpia chatting easily next to her. She's curious. She's always been curious.

It's probably genetics.

"You could always check." Hmm what? "Your ear is pressed to the door..." It.

"Noit'snot." Scorpia laughs but fuck her. The bitch. "I shouldn't, anyway. She'd kill me-"

"I'd stop her." She. That's. "I got your back if you wanna peek." She really does. It's been  _hours_. "It could be fun." And it's a little sing-songy the way Scorpia says it.

What could it hurt besides her body?

...

...

No.

_No._

N. Fucking. O.

How dare she  ** _How Dare She_**  this Bitch was so fucking sadistic it.

Her breath catches in her throat and superheats. Fire licks through her veins and sears every nerve ending until she could scream and  _scream_. But she doesn't scream. She doesn't think she does anyway.

Her vision blacks out and she can only hear a ringing rising rising in pitch.

Blood fills her mouth, flesh tearing off and a scream piercing through the fog of fury. She doesn't stop, not the biting not the clawing. She  _can't_  stop. Even as Scorpia pulls her away she fights and resists and shrieks nearly louder than Shadow Weaver.

And all she can think is  _I'll make you scream louder than I ever did_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas ya filthy animals
> 
>  
> 
> ActuallyMe why do I feel like you'll find this first? Thank you for your support sweets, and fuggin ALL OF YOU.
> 
> yeah you minuseven and Bow_woahh and all you peeps bein all sweet n shit. Get outta here ya sweet sweet babs


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cause I'm here and I'm hopeless and I'm holding out for you

_C **o** L **dA** N **dShAr** P_

* * *

And her heart pounds. Lungs beg for air but every frantic, panicked gasp chokes more and  _moremoreNoMorePlease_

Glimmer and Bow and even Casta try to call to her, stop her. The Sword The Voices cry and attempt to calm but she can't Can't CAN'T it's too much she she needs to leave. With them without them, she Needs To Leave.

* * *

_**Ssaa** Lt **A** N **ddd** C **o** pppp **ERr**_

* * *

She runs. Sprints away from them. Throws Glimmer off when the princess tries to interfere. Rips out of the bonds Bow shoots at her. Wills The Sword to shield her from Magic cast with the intent to Capture. She will not be Captured by foreign Magic.

Never Again.

* * *

_**E** yy **eeS** InnnT **HeDddaarRRR** k_

* * *

She doesn't wait for a mountain.  _Can't_. She leaps off the edge of the Glorious Kingdom of Mystacor and uses all the might granted to her to cleave through their barrier. Damn them, let Honor and Peace and Balance burn.

* * *

_**hhhAaa** n **DDsO** nnNFl **essSsHhh**_

* * *

The Sword and The Voices protest only quietly but unlike her Companions they do not attempt to stop or slow her. They only wish to calm. Whispering Woods might as well wrap arms around her.

* * *

_BiTInGt **eeEEE** t **Ha** NnnN **d** N **aaaaI** L **sss**_

* * *

If only Whispering Woods  _could_  wrap arms around her. A greater comfort, and probably a softer landing.

The ground is familiar and unforgiving. It does not cradle or coddle her and were it not for The Sword crashing into it the way that she does would absolutely kill her.

Blood fills her mouth, bones creak, crack, a few shatter. But she does not scream and she does not cry and she can still barely breathe.

She needs a Spirit to turn into Swift Wind. She  _knew_  Bright Moon had stables she'd just never made her way to them. A mistake she'd rectify. Later.

For now she must master the fine art of breathing while waiting for The Sword and The She-Ra's to piece This Body back together. And, of course, stay put until Whispering Woods could guide either Bow or Glimmer to her.

She. Couldn't exactly go back to Bright Moon without one or both of them. The very idea of facing Ma'am and having to tell her she abandoned the Rebellion diplomatic envoy in a moment of sheer animal panicterror _Can'tBreatheDon'tThinkAboutIt_  alone is very intimidating.

And they'll they'll come for her she knows they will they wouldn't...

They won't abandon her.

* * *

The Sword does not leave her. Even as she petulantly refuses to leave The Body - she'd heal So Much Faster if she just turned back - and hours pass, it doesn't reprimand her, doesn't withdraw the Gifts it bestows.

Even as it begs her to reconsider, and even as she ignores it, The Power still flows within and around her.

Still no Glimmer no Bow. Whispering Woods shifts around her, harmonizing with The Sword and The Voices but it hasn't sensed them. No Intruders no Friends. They have not come for her.

She isn't really certain what to do about it.

* * *

She's embarrassingly drowsy.

There's been longer days with less sleep. She's weak of will, The Rebellion has turned her soft. She'd run from a  _statue_ and a bad dream. She was frightened of facing Royalty. Royalty she'd assaulted once without reprimand.

But falling asleep in open space, unprotected in a vast wilderness that was teeming with life in every way that something can be? Really out of everything that was the most dreadful.

What would Catra th-

"Hey Adora."

Maybe she was dreaming. There was  _No Way_. Whispering Woods would have warned her there was just No Way

But there  _is_. Becau because Catra steps out of the undergrowth smirking and. She just doesn't really think about it. The ugly discoloration painting a vivid picture of the inside of her legs. The fact her bones weren't crushed to dust or jellified on impact...

She goes to stand and fails,  _excruciatingly_. The shriek it rips from her is sudden and startling, like the tears stinging her eyes the air she shakily draws into her lungs. And that's when Catra scoffs,

"Pathetic." An and  _laughs_. "So this is what you left me for? How  _Pitiful_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This would've been posted yesterday were it not for two rewrites and just various things coming up. I'm not doin so hot. Ugh I know I'm being a big ol crybaby bitch but if I could get more than four hours sleep
> 
> Anywho ima go be at the hospital a few hrsss byeee


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eyes that change colors in the light

She's never really felt this before. This sense of utter peace and calm. She should be flipping out right now, sweating and hyperventilating. She's kneeling before Hordak and he's just staring at her. Saying  _nothing_.

And she's just. Happy. Like, genuinely happy.

She can still taste Shadow Weaver's blood on her tongue.

She's Still Hungry.

And so Hordak speaks as a smile splits her lips,

"Proud of yourself, aren't you?" She could try to lie to him.

But, well,

" _Extremely_  sir." And he keeps staring and she's staring right back. She should be nervous. She  _really_  should.

"Any particular reason you took it upon yourself to... Incapacitate my second in command?"

"She was compromised by an unhealthy obsession." She hadn't practiced that line but she  _had_  planned it. She was a Force Captain now and what she'd done was outright treason.

She should  _Really_  stop feeling so Gods damned smug about it.

"Compromised you say? That's interesting." She goes to speak again and. There's the most significant look he pierces her with. Kinda makes all that smug shrivel up and die. And he waits to continue, and just.  _That Look._

Finally, slowly,

"My  _compromised_  second in command managed to uncover the Lost Kingdom of Mystacor. We've been trying to pin the Sorcerers there down for  _years_ , and under her own machinations, quite without your or my or the help of any Horde operative, she found it. In a few hours. It's just.  _So Interesting._ "

And the staring.

"I-"

"Think very carefully about what you're going to say next, Force Captain Catra. I find my patience for dishonesty lacking."

"I, she, err," there's an amount of visceral panic trying to choke her.  _Of course_  Shadow Weaver did something useful for the first time in decades. Maybe she  _should've_  practiced that line... "I. Found her using a likeness of, of myself. To. She was. Using it,  _me_ , to torment ex-Force Captain Adora."

He's

He's  _smiling_. He threads his hands together, leaning forward with the lowest chuckle,

"And you  _hated that_ , did you?" There is the  _Biggest_  bead of sweat rolling down the back of her neck right now.

"Ex. Extremely, sir.

* * *

Scorpia finds her sparring with Lonnie.

They've come to some weird sort of, err, not quite a respect for each other... An understanding.

They're not friends and they'll never be friends. They barely tolerate each other. But when they  _do_  tolerate each other, the rare moments that they're able, it's almost nice.

So yeah, they spar mostly amicably. It's cool.

Lonnie spots Scorpia first, dropping out of her stance to salute. Even despite the understanding she almost sneaks in a last kick. It's  _very_  tempting.

"Force Captain Catra, Senior Cadet Lonnie," Scorpia nods to them both but steps closer to Catra, "Could I have a word?"

"I'll kick your ass later," Lonnie's eyes roll. And she's  _definitely_  not smiling. But the cadet bows out and they watch her go. "So...?" Scorpia's looking a little grim. That's becoming unfortunately familiar.

"We've been given a mission."

" _Fun_. What village do they want us pillaging? Oh! Or are we supposed to begin laying siege to Mystacor?"

"Ah, neither. We've, err, we've been tasked with infiltrating Princess Prom." Oh sure. Right that sounded. Um.

"What's a  _Princess Prom?_ "

"Pretentious and boring, mostly. I've never really gone to one."

"And now you've got no choice.  _Terrific_. Why am I being brought along? Princess Prom sounds sorta like it's a  _Princess Only_  affair."

" _Kinda_. We get a plus one!" It's not an explanation and she's overcome by the rarest moment of patience. "... Hordak. He, he seems to believe your presence would be... Advantageous. He  _insisted_."

Discomfort like bugs under the skin.

"Right. So umm, what  _Is_  a prom?"

"Basically a party."

"What the fuck is a party?"

* * *

Adora is stunning in a crimson dress. And ridiculous. She acts as though she's never leaned how to bow properly. As though she's still part of The Horde, the way she takes a knee and plants a fist to the floor.

Princess Frosta barely reacts. A brow twitching up and quickly back down. Her lips thin in something like displeasure but the visible tension steeling her spine and shoulders relaxes.

The  _Way Too Shiny_  princess next to Adora burns red and grabs at Adora's arm, to pull her up or away or. Adora flinches, she usually does when someone puts hands on her without warning.

Well, Catra usually got away with it.  _Always_ , actually. Hm.

It's.

_The Worst_

Adora catches sight of her. Just out of the corner of her eye. A violent shudder and she spins, reaching up to grip the sword-and-shield pendant she wears and. Her eyes might glow when she holds the thing, the precious gem at the pendant's center might match that glow.

And maybe it's just a trick of the light.

Like the way true utter terror mists glowing blue eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man this took me a few days. Took a short trip with old friend Lucinda. Gotta DM for a D&D session in a few hours. 
> 
> Next chapter will be fuuuuuuun on a bun! Get HYPE Y'ALL.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An icy pulse that hardly reaches through

_Y **o** u' **re D** i **s** gu **s** ting. Y **o** u Utt **er**   **D** i **sa** pp **o** intm **e** nt. Y **o** u G **ar** b **a** g **e.**_

* * *

Ma'am

Is

_Furious_.

She's a pretty, pleasant pink. Even despite the sharp cut of her eyes, the regal way she lives breathes and speaks, she's an incredibly beautiful woman.

But right now she's like a battle cat or a dragon or something majestic and absolutely deadly. And she's  _Livid_ , pleasant pink flushing violent crimson, sharp eyes narrowing to razors and slicing slashing ripping tearing as easily as her tone,

" _What. Happened?_ " Ma'am looks to her daughter, she looks to Bow. Neither of them can meet her eyes. Ma'am is something like hesitant, her eyes and the tight line of her mouth just softening when at last she shifts her gaze.

"Adora?" She's in an odd sort of state of exhaustion where she's become hyper aware of her surroundings. She can hear the guards shifting and the way it makes their armor clatter, the tremendously thunderous sounds of Glimmer and Bow breathing behind her.

She's waiting to be addressed, watches for it, and it  _still_  startles her. She hesitates only briefly,

"I... Ran, Ma'am. I saw something that... Spooked me. I abandoned them. It was my faul-"

"That's  _not_  true! We weren't even supposed to be there, it was a freak accident an and it shouldn't have happened and it  _Wasn't Your Fault!_ "

She doesn't understand Glimmer. She might never. That inherent kindness and the way she lives so wildly, boldly. Why she's coming to Adora's defense...

"I was assigned to guard you-"

"You  _weren't_. You were  _assigned_  to get rest! Mom asked, she she told us to take you-"

"That's enough Glimmer." It's the  _softest_  command. Like an afterthought like a sigh. But Ma'am is powerful. Her every word her every action. Dragon, Battle Cat, Warrior, Queen, Leader of the Bright Moon Rebellion.

Soft or no, the command brings silence. The guards straighten, Bow and Glimmer quiet. They hardly even breathe.

"I'd like to speak to Adora alone." Somehow this command comes softer. Glimmer and Bow hesitate. It's. Strange.

They should be better at following orders than this.

But they do leave. And Ma'am goes soft. She even dares to approach but not close enough to Touch.

"Adora," Ma'am is. She's  _open_. She just. She sits on the ground to be at eye level. Her wings shift and she  _implores_ , "Tell me what happened?"

* * *

_**Where Are**  T **he** y? Y **o** u' **re**  N **e** w F **r** i **e** n **ds?**  L **e** ft Y **o** u T **o**  T **he**   **Woods.**  L **e** ft Y **o** u T **o**  M **e.**_

* * *

She does not sleep willingly, hoping only that utter exhaustion will keep the dark behind her eyelids, lurking through her memories, at bay.

It doesn't.

It's not the subconsciously muffled shrieking that wakes her or even the pain of gnawing at her lips and tongue. The taste of copper does it though and she gasps awake, nearly choking on bloody spittle, mouth raw. The shadows don't writhe and pulse and creep as she washes out her mouth and  _watches_.

Somehow that's worse. This place is not familiar, time has not made it so.  _Nothing_  is familiar. She. It's been weeks since she's been Rewarded. The people here touch and love and admire but not in the ways she understands.

There are no  _Touches_ , it is not  _Love_ , she receives no  _Admiration_  and it makes her feel ill and restless. These are things she  _Deserves_.

_Aren't they?_

There are no guards immediately outside of her cell. It's. Not a comfort. Makes her insides hurt. Like being crushed, squeezed. She could really go for a spar or.

The Sword isn't quiet, the chorus of Voices beg she rest. But she can't she  _needs_

"Ma'am." She takes a knee upon encountering The Queen, bows salutes. Ma'am doesn't reach out to touch her, doesn't laugh doesn't smile. She barely spares a glance.

It's not a dismissal. She's just. Focused. There's a depiction of a man. The King Micah, it looks like. At least it resembles the effigy of him she'd seen in Mystacor.

"He died in battle." She doesn't pose it as a question and Ma'am startles just a bit, finally settling a longer gaze on her. Sad is a word she could use, it's not exactly right but it fits.

"He did."

"The Horde is good at taking." And she watches Ma'am twitch. Not enough to disrupt the Not Quite Sadness. If anything that expression settles deeper, through the structure of her face and down into her body. Even her wings droop. Very quietly, Ma'am admits,

"It is."

His likeness carved into stone is majestic. Like Ma'am. Like Bright Moon and Mystacor. Like So Many Things outside of the Fright Zone. Majestic and Beautiful.

Would he have liked her? Would He have praised her, been proud of her? Would he have punished her for allowing Mystacor's defenses to fail?

Too many things she doesn't know, can't understand. Least of all Ma'am. Watching her and Not Quite Sad and Too Forgiving for the lack of Reward. Ma'am who watches until she finds Something and smiles. A strange beautific thing. She bids with a bow of her head as she moves by,

"Have a Good Night,"

_GoOdGOoOodGoOD_

_wh_ _y_ _wo_ _ul_ _dshesa_ _y_ _so_ _m_ _e_ _t_ _h_ _ing_ _so_

"Th. Thank you Ma'am. It pleases me to serve you."

* * *

_**Oh Do** n't C **r** y! I Kn **ow**  Y **o** u' **ve**  Mi **ssed**  M **e. Show**  M **e**  Y **o** u **r S** mil **e**  P **re** tty Gi **r** l._

* * *

Glimmer wants to pull her hair up into a bun. She disagrees. Tries having her hair down. Tries imitating The Original.

It look strange on her. Not unpleasant but, like everything here, unfamiliar. Her eyes are too ice chip pale, hair too ashen blonde, the cut of her cheekbones too soft too low. But The Many Voices cry approval and even Glimmer seems a little awed.

So she leaves it loose and she is prettied in a dress and with makeup and she attends a Prom.

The Princess Frosta that greets her is decidedly younger than Her Original. But incredibly fierce, eyes sharp and stern, spine steel straight and mouth the sharpest razor line.

Like Ma'am.

Like Shadow Weaver.

Her body moves, teeth and tongue and lips speaking without permission or prompting,

"Ma'am it's an honor to be in your presence." She could almost strike Glimmer for the sudden aggressive vice grip on her arm but it snaps her out of

_No._

Not not again no no No it's she can't be its NOT

Catra.

_Y **o** uC **a** n't **R** unF **ro** mM **eAdora** L **oo** k **A** tM **e** C **h** il **d** L **e** tM **e** FuckingT **o** uchY **o** u **Da** mnIt_

Her eyes her face the smile She Waits for them to change. It will she knows it will Too Cruel Too Wicked Too Sharp Too Manic and Wild it will it will she knows it will she can't get away she.

The Pendant almost burns her palm and the shouting screaming Voices beg her to breathe and back away but there's a Ringinginginging in her Headeadeadeadead and it's so hard to move impossible it

"Hey Adora."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angella trying so hard poor lass. Finally got one of my many future wives to watch She-Ra and now she loves it. Makes me a happy. A single happy. Just the one. Anywho, sorry for this one dearies!


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lifeless eyes, I'd waste away with you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not dead yet. I think I can wrap up Princess Prom after this.

And then Scorpia happens. It's fucking seamless. One second she's about to step towards Adora and her sparkly friend and then she's been scooped up and placed away from Her blonde. Stuck between a ballroom and a hard place.

"Hey Adora," and Scorpia is so warm in the greeting it should melt the ice around them. It doesn't but it should. "You look really lovely! Mind if I greet our hostess?" There's a pause, a really long one. Not quite a minute, feels a bit like an hour.

Not that she cares, but nearly everyone is just staring at them.

"Scorpia?" Adora! Ah! So sweet. Doesn't even sound frightened. Just a little confused. She'd  _love_  to take a peek right now. It couldn't hurt right?

Adora's eyes cut to hers and _Watch_ like they never have. Like she's something brutal and savage and terrible. Like she's Shadow Weaver.

She could comfortably vomit right now.

Perhaps shove her own nails into her face, gouge out her own eyes, rip out her own tongue, tear off her own ears. Anything would be more bearable than the sickening Accusation in those eyes. Maybe she's being dramatic... Mm, maybe not.

She probably doesn't give a proper greeting to Princess Hosta, the one frosting the Prom. She could be forgiven for that. She's a little distracted watching Adora watch her. Scorpia has to physically drag her away, muttering low for her ears only,

"Catra you need to focus. This wasn't a whimsical decision we made, coming here. Hordak sent us don't forget-"

"ScorpiaIneedyourhelp!"

"-to infil-... I.  _What?_ "

It's not embarrassing. She's not embarrassed. It's just warm under all these layers.

"I. Err. I... Need your help-  _don't cry!_ "

"I'm not!" She is. "I'm just.  _So happy._  So! What can I do? "

"I...  _Ahem,_  I need you. You're help. In. Uhm. I want to talk to Adora." Ok but why's she gotta stare like that?

"Ok." And more staring. "That's good... That's your part of the mission so-"

"I need your help."

"I need to set the charges."

"Please. You saw how she looked at me, please Scorpia please. I can't... I don't think I...  _Please._ "

"Catra... The mission-"

" _Fuck the mission!_  I know what's more important!"

They. Should have moved this conversation elsewhere. Like a balcony, the half-deserted refreshment table, anywhere really besides the middle of the room.

And she's not embarrassed damn it!

* * *

Too many sweet things. That's basically all they're serving, off platters off the table. Just too damn many sweets. She's not fond of sweet things. She can't actually taste sweet things so...

This junk is too much and she dislikes it but it's either stand here nonchalantly stuffing her face or stand out on that particularly frosty looking balcony.

Yeah no thanks.

"Like the cupcakes?" She's not surprised she doesn't jump and flinch. To claim otherwise would be blatant lies and blasphemy and uh Scorpia really came outta nowhere ok?

"They're actually pretty terrible and I hate them but. Eh." She shrugs, pops another, ah,  _cupcake_  into her mouth. If cake is this unpleasant she's not certain she wants to try it outside of the cup.

"Hmmm. Maybe you'd like them more if you took off the cup?" Say what? What's that supposed to- that was a  _covering?_  She just thought they were really chewy! What kind of deranged psychopath would make a food you have to undress?!

"Mmm, easier to eat but still pretty awful." And Scorpia laughs but it's  _really_  not that funny.

Unless cupcakes are funny and she just never knew. That's also entirely possible. Princesses are strange creatures. At least Scorpia is  _kind-of_  relatable. She doesn't know what life outside of the Fright Zone is or even could be like but she feels safe imagining everything much more ideal than anything in her upbringing.

"You're super ok, Scorpia."

"Aww, thanks! I hope you still think that in a few minutes..." What  _exactly_  is that supposed to mean?

"This your way of saying Adora wouldn't agree to talk? "

"Ah, not quite. She just had a few requests is all."

"Ok _aaa_ y... Like what?" She  _really_  doesn't trust that wince Scorpia tries on.

" _Among other things,_ " the fuck "She wants to meet up there. And she wants me to, ah,  _supervise_." Up there... There's a mostly deserted second floor overlooking the, uhh...

So Scorpia won't be the only one supervising.

 _Joy_.

Is there a word that describes a grouping of Princesses? There's got to be.

Cloister? No no no that's not quite...

A, um, a Cluttering! Hmm...

An Embarrassment. Yeah.

Yeah that sounds right.

So there's an Embarrassment of Princesses waiting for her and her chaperone. Right at the top of the stairs. A blonde that isn't hers, the sparkly one that needs to keep her fucking hands to herself, the angry fish, two uh, other ones, a dude with a serious complex for his midriff, and a mechanic.

A wall of Embarrassment really. A phalanx.

And Adora too, watching her with a familiar glaze over her eyes.

It feels like someone kicks her in the gut. In all actuality, Scorpia punches her in the face. So yeah.

Fuck Princess Prom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frien texts me last night, says he's been in a "disturbed kinda mood" And my dumb ass I'm like Dude me too been learning about the truly disgusting irredeemable unforgivable inhumane things we as a species have done to each other not just throughout history but in my lifetime and man that's a fucking deep rabbit hole I'm just happy not to have nightmares about... His next text, Yeah i love the song Stricken.  
> Whoops.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, cold heart, I'd keep it warm for you

The Rebellion is something she fights for but she'll never be a rebel. She's not like them. They're a ragtag force of clumsy hopes and dreams with no formal training. They are so unlike her it's hard to stomach them.

Maybe that's why she finds so little comfort in them. Ma'am and the guards are better. Stern and controlled even if she's still mildly terrified of them. The terror is.

Well isn't that the Proper response?

Catra had been one of the few that didn't make her feel so

But no. No that's a little different right now. Her stomach rolls and twists and she almost heaves. The air stings at her eyes and in her throat and it's  _C **o** l **dA** n **dShar** p_ and it's got absolutely nothing to do with the ice and chill around her.

She's making a scene and she knows it. Stiff and numb and  _coldandsharpandslicingtothebone_  she walks away with Glimmer speaking but it's a low buzz in her ears warbling in pitch and she just might be drowning it feels like she is she is is is she's really she's

"The She-Ra!" Cloying flower stench and arms attempting to wrap around her shoulders and the screaming screaming screaming Voices and it's all so very sudden and jarring and. She doesn't stop Perfuma from hugging her.

She sags into the taller blonde and shakes.

And that is where Force Captain Scorpia finds her.

* * *

She asks Scorpia to make it sudden. If Catra Weaver sees it coming and dodges she'll never know. Scorpia, ever kind and caring, refuses and refuses but she pleads and pleads and.

Catra doesn't see it. She's struck square across the face and Scorpia did  _Not_  make that gentle by any means. It's wholly unpleasant to watch and she lurches through the Wall of Allies attempting to protect her from things they  _still_  don't understand.

Well...

But a few of them give her looks. Netossa and Spinnerella mostly. Older than Glimmer, a little wiser too. She wants to trust them. They and all the Allies. It's difficult.

And Catra is here and it's her  _Really_  her and, and she'd

She'd asked Catra's comrade to strike her. Catra that deserved pain the least. Catra bleeding from the mouth and looking at Scorpia with utter betrayal twisting her features.

Catra that  _could_  still be an act.

"What does honey taste like?" She almost gags on  _honey_. And she can feel the way the other Princesses stare at her but it's not them she cares to acknowledge, explain herself to.

How  _can_  she explain? She can't even tell Ma'am and Ma'am has all but ordered her to speak. The words swell up in her throat when she tries and she  _can't_

"Uhh, I. I dunno. Nothing, I guess."

She'd like to say that, for the sake of every Princess present, she keeps an amount of composure and crawls into Catra's lap. She'd really like to say that, and for it to be true.

As a matter of fact she throws herself at the already prone Cadet, nearly tackling her to the unforgiving icy floor and it's only years of training that stops the tears from burning tracks down her cheeks.

She wants to speak to spill her secrets and The Things that have happened she want want  _wants_  so badly to tell Catra that she lo

_**Do** n'tY **o** uL **ove** M **e** P **re** ttyGi **r** l?_

But she can't. Can't speak of these things. Not now, maybe not ever, but especially not with witnesses. The shame sears her insides and she could weep for it but she won't. She's done enough already, made a mess of this just like Mystacor.

Except that Shadow Weaver hasn't shown up.

 _Yet_.

And her greatest shame is the terror familiar and somehow new, given life and a voice among The Many in her head. It insists that She will show up. It insists she's already here.

"'m so tired," her tongue and teeth and lips might trip over those words. Somewhere between a stutter and a slur. "Miss our bed. Miss you."

There's a low murmur from The Allies and Scorpia. A shuffle of feet. Two stay behind, Scorpia and Entrapta. They speak as quietly as they can between them, which is not very quiet at all. It's. Something like a comfort.

This could almost be private. Like back in the barracks, curled up in their bunk.

And everything is Warm and Soft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet y'all thought I was lyin bout those hugs eh? 
> 
>  
> 
> DON'T GET USED TO IT. I'm kidding of course!  
> Probably


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And I have to let you go, I've got everything to lose

They share a dance.

Just the one.

Foreheads pressed together, noses brushing, sharing air and the most intimate eye contact. And for the whole of it Adora smiles. Lips lifting teeth showing and eyes glossy with unshed tears but warm, so warm so affectionate. Adora threads their fingers and imparts secrets against her mouth.

They share a dance and it's just the one for the way Adora draws closer until only the clothing they wear separates them from each other and then they just sway. Adora's head finds her shoulder and her free hand roams.

Fingertips that trip down her spine, tickle at her ribs. A hand that squeezes at her shoulders and cards through her hair so blunt nails can scrape gently at her scalp until she's purring against the chilly nose pressed against her throat.

And the eyes that watch them could burn and suffer, she'll not meet them not give a single member of The Embarrassment the satisfaction of her gaze. That belongs to Her Blonde.

The Blonde she'd thought dead. With the Sometimes Sunny Smile. With the Light Eyes.

There is no One That Survives in sight.

And if it's a dream it's the first of what she hopes to be many. It's the sort she hopes never ends.

But, as all things must...

* * *

She can't stomach Scorpia. She even understands but a warning a, a heads up a. She chose to be cryptic, chose to fucking swing out and good on her! She's got a fierce fist.

Pincer.

 _Whatever_.

But of all people of all things Scorpia thought it a good idea to hit her.

For her part, Scorpia doesn't try to fill their heavy silence with useless chatter. She really wants to and that's easy to see but, somehow, the biggest baddest princess refrains. Until she doesn't of course,

"What are we going to tell him?"

"Hmm what? You say something?"

"It's a bad time, Catra. We can absolutely do this later. But we  _Failed Our Mission._  What are we going to tell him?"

It's not even easy to forget what she's going back to. In light of Adora's most quiet request - _"Can I come back? When you're finally running the Fright Zone? Can't be much longer now... I'll be your personal guard or... Anything. If that's alright?"_  - it just seemed less, less dangerous maybe.

Or maybe just distinctly more bearable.

"I." She... "Umm..."

Scorpia grinds her teeth. Slowly, lowly,

"You should've just defected. Would've been easier."

There's a roaring in her ears. Righteous indignation. _How can she...!_

"I'm so sure. And when Shadow Weaver heals enough to fuck herself full of magic off your Black Garnet I'm  _So Sure_  she's not going to Ruin Everything. She won't come for us, for  _Her_. I'm. So. Fucking.  _Sure_."

"And trying to protect Adora from this end had been working  _so well_... " How  _Dare_  she

" _YouDon'tGetToFucking-_ "

"Consider your most likely outcome being a beating or, if you're real lucky, a demotion-"

"Oh but  _you're_  not included-"

"This  _bull shit mission_  wasn't a test for  _my_  loyalty."

...

"...Shadow Weaver's the only one that hits me..." A petulant murmur, shame burning her ears.

"And all things within The Horde belong to Hordak. She  _always_  had his backing." She doesn't. Doesn't really have words for that. Does uh, it does kinda make her think though. "So. How do you wanna do this? I've got your back, obviously, but we need our story straight."

She has a handful of seconds to sigh and let her head loll back before Scorpia adds,

"And a plan. You're running out of time and. I don't. I don't think I can do this much longer. The Garnet, the money and manpower that came with me and mine, They don't touch me with all that. And. My dad, my kingdom, I... I can't keep..."

Scorpia is super ok. Almost relatable. She'll always be So Different. And So Lucky to be So Different. And she's really trying to just. Be better than any of them has any right being.

She really  _is_  a Princess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry he boi so short. Anywho I'm a little drunk and wrote this to sad music should probs goooo to beeeeeed
> 
>  
> 
> All you sweet yams saying kind words better stahp that sheeeet before I get a flustered ego!


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're the only one that I'm ever thinking of

The kind of Tired that sleep hasn't helped in years.

Her eyes droop and close and she could just fade away like everything else. It's all muddled sound and blurring images and The Voices are but a low murmur and though they cry She-Ra She-Ra She-Ra it's discernible in the way of a heartbeat.

It pulses and pounds through her body and in her skull and she's barely conscious of it.

And in the midst of that, of the churning lapping waves of things she's hardly aware of, she finds Meaning to The Words. Understanding dawns and in that moment she's too Warm and Weak to do anything but she Understands.

Peace.

And Balance.

* * *

Glimmer asks if they'll talk about it and she asks only for the sake of being facetious. Naturally, Adora tells her no. There is a calm in her, foreign but not unwelcome.

Gazes are settled on her and they're meant to be things heavy. They aren't. Bodies and minds Too Young Too Clean to lend the sort of weight that could cow her. And so she meets them with her own calm.

It's startling.

The gazes are fleeting.

* * *

Princess Frosta has not agreed to join their Rebellion but she has initiated contact.

Ma'am is proud of her and it fills her with a thrill of HotTight fear and something like pleasure to hear it from the mouth of Authority. She could shiver and shake but the Meaning remains and the ease of breathing too. She looks at Ma'am and The Mantras don't echo.

The Unnatural Quiet is entirely welcome.

Even Glimmer keeps to herself.

But there is Peace and Balance in her and she feels

Clean.

Ma'am offers her a Reward and even that only slices so deep. Not nearly to the bone but her breath stutters and her insides ache for the briefest eternity.

"A mount." She pauses and hesitates and Ma'am is absolutely patient. For naught.

She bows her head and asks nothing else.

* * *

There are options. Spirit and Swift Wind come to mind but there are others.

Adam

Cringer

Randor

Miro

_SoManyWhispers_.

* * *

Damocles.

* * *

She could wait for a War Council and that would be perfectly fine but if The Sword had revealed one thing it is the cyclical nature of things.

Peace is ever fading.

War is ever looming.

Her Peace will leave and with it the Balance that she so needed to even stomach interactions with

"Ma'am." and she stands before The King, that so proud effigy of him.

Starry eyes find hers, hold her gaze. They could be warm but there's little reason for that. Must be the Peace or the Balance or the lack of sleep and she's just seeing things.

"Good evening, Adora," and she only jerks minutely. It could be mistaken for a twitch. The  _C **o** l **dA** n **dShar** p_ are so brief a sting she might even just imagine it despite the swell of Voices. "Can't sleep?"

"Ma'am, ah, no Ma'am I was. I was looking for you." Ma'am chuckles and she can't be certain she's imagining the warmth in it anymore but once is coincidence, twice a twist of fate. She'll have a pattern at three and things to think about.

"You know you can request an audience? Without Bow or Glimmer or... I thought it made you too uncomfortable, but I'm still willing to hear your request for that reward."

_Touch Me._

She doesn't say it, grinds the words to dust between her teeth before they ever have a chance to escape that factory for all the toxic speech she ever spews.

"I would like your permission to take a small team into the Fright Zone." Because those words are clearly so much better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loolooloo how ya do? This took so long to get out. Losin it! Crumbly rumbles ya dig? Lost another! Why must the good ones move on? I miss my James but her health matters more than my fiendishly soft emotions


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When it's time to escape you realize you've waited until it's too late

She could handle Hordak so much better if he didn't seem so pleased to see her. She's careful so careful when she walks in. Paints herself the picture of bored, unaffected, totally cool and collected.

Maybe she's just not meant to be an artist.

That  _fucking_  smile. If an oil slick could grin...

She can't slip, won't slip. Years, almost decades of practice she can'twon't _hasn'teverslipped_

But when he chuckles she might almost flinch. Her arms cross, tail whips. She might be forgiven being unable to look at him.

"My favorite Force Captains!"  _Ew_. "And your return is... Triumphant?" They hadn't even changed out of their stuffy formal wear, neither of them is smiling, they'd already called in a report... He knows and he  _still_

She might almost miss Shit Weaver. At least that Witch was predictable. Vicious anger, snide comments, physical violence. She got that, she could very unhappily say she was used to that. But this is...

He wants to hear them say it. And she can't fathom  _Why_  he would bother. It's a waste of time and he hardly seems the wasteful type. Just. It's just so.

_Fucked up._

Like everything here. Like every _one_  here. Scorpia was Super Ok and she'd never really be better than that because she'd always known. They all always knew, just no-one said anything, did anything. What  _could_  they do?

_So maybe it's not Scorpia's fault..._

"Ah, no, Lord Hordak." Scorpia steps forward but he's only looking at Catra. With the greasy smile. It's almost indulgent. "The other Princesses were suspicious, never left me alone. Catra was unable to make contact with ex-Force Captain Adora."

"Distrust between royalty?" He tsktsks, cuts his eyes over to Scorpia only for a beat. "Shame." His eyes slide back, the slimy smile curls his lips back from his uncomfortably blood red teeth. "And what about you Catra?"

"Uhh, she was unab-"

"She can speak for herself."

So. Not  _them_ , then. Just wants to hear  _her_  say it.

"I-"

"Come closer, won't you?" It's not a request, no matter how he phrases it. She takes a few steps towards him, stops. He gestures for her to approach. Again. Again. She's close enough to touch him, for him to lean over and touch her.

"Isn't that better?" And he chuckles to see her glare, the way her lips peel back. "And don't you look nice. Tell me, Catra... How did Adora react to your most fetching appearance."

"She wouldn't let me near her," and it sounds pitchy when she tells him, a noise she has no control over like a growl and a howl rumbling in her throat, disfiguring her words. "Wouldn't let me touch her."

More chuckling. What she feels comfortable calling a caterwaul grows louder as her teeth part just a sliver.

"Should've tried calling her a Good Girl."  _Shecan'tbreathe_  "It always worked for me."

_Shecan'tcan'tcan'tfuckingbreathe_

SlimeoilgreaseslidingontohisfaceBastardBastardFuckingBastard ** _HowDareHe_**

"That'll be all." Close enough claws sharp enough she could do it right here right now some of the soldiers might even follow her she could do it Right Now End It All she could just

" _Catra!_ " Scorpia hisses like they're sisters and it doesn't nearly bring her enough peace. One of those deadly pincers clamps gently over her shoulder and there's no shrugging it off. She won't take her eyes off him, not even for a second.

And he just laughs.

_Fucking Scorpia and her fucking super strength._

"And Catra? Fail me  _One More Time..._ " Like a razor splitting his lips, brilliant red bleeding through and it's So Pleased.

* * *

"We need to destroy the Black Garnet."

"We  _need_  to change."

"I'm serious, Scorpia."

"I am too! I miss my pants! You need to take a breather before you do something foolish, like say, I dunno, recklessly charge into trouble by smashing the Black Garnet with no greater plan than its untimely destruction?"

...

"I don't respond to glares, Catra. No-one does. Go cool off, put on your uniform, meet me in my quarters so we can  _plan_  this, ok?"

"We don't have  _time_  to-"

"We do have time, very little it's true, but we've still got it! Ten minutes. Give me ten minutes, that's all I'm asking. Just breathe-" Oh right because that was  _So Easy_  when every breath she takes burns like acid on the tender insides of her flesh. "-and think about what we're going to do next. You're not alone, stop acting like you have to be."

Oh. Oh right, sure. Not alone despite the absence of Adora. Not alone as Scorpia skulks away to shed her vestments.

She doesn't have to be alone but She Is.

Scorpia doesn't, can't get it. She was a Princess, she'd been coddled and cared for her whole life, she wouldn't understand. Everything she knows is secondhand, and so she knows and she'll always know but she'll never feel it. Not like Catra, not like Adora or Lonnie, Kyle Rogelio not like any of the Cadets Soldiers and Force Captains that came into this unloved unclaimed orphans desperate for food and a bed.

Scorpia begs for time but there is none.

Hordak hadn't punished her. Not at all. And nothing could be worse no warning could be greater or more startling if it was screaming and sprinting at her.

She's out of time, out of options barring the one. It's her last chance. It's her Only chance. Destroy the Garnet and she might be able to run. Destroy the Garnet and Shadow Weaver won't have the means to hunt her or Adora.

Scorpia is Super Ok. She'll always be Super Ok with her daddy and her daddy's wealth and her daddy's army. She'll. She'll be fine and Catra can't afford to believe otherwise.

She doesn't care because she can't care and won'twon'twon't care or even consider what might  _butdefinitelyWillNot_  happen after this. Scorpia is. Scorpia Will Be Fine and that's that. And and she won't fail because she Can't fail and that's that.

There is no time to waste on plans and so she spares none and stalks the corridors to reach the Witch's Chamber.

She Will destroy the Black Garnet. She Will escape to Adora's Rebellion. And. And that's just that isn't it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man. Too much pressure too many years. Most of em this year. Not much longer now eh? Oh how we come to heads!


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And I want to be able to open up but my feelings are fatal

Ma'am gathers the War Council.

It's not something spiteful.

It's meant to be helpful.

She understands this. But there's something hot in her lungs, something like shame and the softest sort of displeasure. She won't voice it and it doesn't color her or any of her actions but she burns nonetheless.

She folds her hands together, squeezing her fingers like she wants them to break and staring at her bone white knuckles as Ma'am explains why they're all here. Glimmer is acting her age - that is to say she plays the part of a petulant Princess perfectly - and Bow throws uncomfortable stares at her.

She doesn't acknowledge them until they,  _Glimmer_ , butts in,

" _What!?_  I've been suggesting taking the fight to the Fright Zone for  _centuries!_ " Glimmer finally bothers to glare and she meets it head-on. There is no fire only smoke. "How come  _She_  suggests it and Suddenly it sounds  _perfect?!_ "

"I-"

"She danced with some Horde soldier all night! Did you know that did she mention it? Won't mention it to  _Us_. We helped you,  _you-_ "

"I was raised by Hordak's greatest General. The next Lord of The Horde. That soldier is my oldest-"  _friend comrade hope peace balance light Eternia dearest loveoveoveoveL **ove** M **eWo** n'tY **o** uJu **s** t_ "-companion."

There's a pause, swollen and significant. Ma'am watches her and she watches Ma'am and while they watch each other she pretends she can't see them shifting, those Allies of hers, theirs. There's a murmur or the ghost of one and she Does Not acknowledge the eyes.

"Is this why you still, is  _This_  why she still lives in the  _dungeons!?_ " For someone so utterly drowning in bright colors and magic that quite literally sparkles, Glimmer's got a temper like.

Like the Princess she is.

Except for the others that are clearly confused but decidedly quieter...

Maybe she should appreciate that she's not getting yelled at but Ma'am taking the brunt of it might just be worse. Glimmer can be kind in ways unnatural to her station and upbringing, has even been kind in her own Princess way to Adora!

And yet the displeasure of dealing with her has hardly lessened and it. She she can't

How  ** _Dare_**  Glimmer speak to Ma'am in such a way. She cannot like this girl, cannot approve of her or outbursts. Too much too often too confusing to accept or even begin to understand.

And yet this Girl she Does Not like is, once again, attempting to defend her.

Too much too often too confusing.

For her part, Ma'am weathers the storm of her Daughter's rage with ease and not the slightest bit of passion. She just. It's like she's  _bored_.

"Didn't Scorpia and the Other One try to kill you with a cannon?" Catra had called her an angry fish. Anger denotes passion though and Mermista's half-sullen murmur is decidedly lacking.

"I wouldn't have died." Mermista never looks particularly amused but... "They were following orders. They helped me-"

" _We_  helped you! I'm  _so sure_  you conveniently forgot the meltdown you almost but super-definitely had at Princess Prom. I haven't. Neither have they."

She doesn't have to gesture to the Allies watching. Even Glimmer had quieted, perhaps sensing the seriousness, or noticing that her mother was no longer paying attention to her temper tantrum.

"...You  _were_  very, ah, shaken," Perfuma admits at length as though it pains her, head ducking shoulders jerking up. There are nods and murmurs from the Royal Collective but harsher, louder still,

" _Shaken!_ " it's a scoff and Mermista's eyes roll only to settle back on her target and she's a glaring, glowering expectant creature. "So we're supposed to trust you right? Cuz you waited to tell us and you've been  _So Open_  and  _Warm_  already."

"I  _helped_  you!"

"Sure but why? You're so buddy-buddy with those Horde soldiers, you're trying to get us to  _Agree_  to walk into the Fright Zone and we're just... Supposed to trust you?"

She'd. Hadn't she proven. She'd  _Killed_  for these. Why couldn't they  _See_ sheshe

_She-RaShe-RaShe-RaShe-RaShe-RaShe-RaShe-RaShe-RaShe-RaShe-RaShe-Ra_

_Honor And Balance And Peace And Balance And Honor And Balance And Peace And_

"What do you want me to Do? Just tell me an and I'll do it just. I'm a Soldier and I'll fight for you and I'll win for you and and I'll-"

"Adora, that's enough." It's startling and familiar the way Ma'am can make a whisper more significant than a shout, not that she whispers. No no, but it's calm and it's soft and it's Authority and Ma'am stands so slowly, gazing about at her Allies and she seems larger than anything.

She looms over them and if shadows did writhe...

"I asked Adora to hide her upbringing. I see now it was the  _proper_  decision." Her lips have thinned into the sternest razor but her eyes are sharper still and they slice through the Princesses. And those Princesses, those Allies, their ducking heads and shifting eyes can't meet Ma'am and Ma'am is

Ma'am is  _lying_.

* * *

Glimmer finds her in the night. She's somber and serious and though she strides into the open cell without pause for permission, she does stop just over the threshold. Arms cross, hips cock, she's leveled with a look she can't quite decipher.

Seconds.

Minutes.

Moments.

Eternity.

And finally,

"We need to talk." Not  _Want_ , not  _Can we?_ , no no. They  _needed_  to. Something serious something strange something totally unlike Glimmer. Curiosity and duty are truly an intoxicating mix.

But she won't start this conversation. She offers a nod. Glimmer doesn't quite approach but she does step closer, shift her weight to the other leg.

"What's your problem with me?"

... Surely this isn't what they  _Needed_  to talk about?

"I have none-"

" _Don't!_ " nearly a shriek but Sharp in ways she'd thought the Princess incapable of. "Just,  _don't_  lie to me, ok? I'm, I'm not stupid. I see the way you look at me, never mind your attitude,  _never mind_  Earlier."

"I stand by what I said in the meeting." She didn't think Glimmer was suited for the mission then, doesn't think it now, will never think she should be part of what was supposed to be a four-man cell.

What is in actuality a five-man cell due to Glimmer's arguing and, most importantly, insistence from Ma'am.

"I  _know_. I just. Why? What did I do why do you  _Hate_  me?"

"You make assumptions of me, " and that Loud Shiny girl goes to cut in but, "I don't hate you."

"Then  _What_  is your  _Problem_  with me!?" Another shriek and it's just Too Much Too Often Too Confusing  _Too Loud_  and she just,

"You're  _So Loud!_  I can't  _stand_  it! You're Untrained, you have so little control over yourself or your powers and you are so unbearably  _Untouched_  by  _Everything_  and it  _ **Burns**  Me Up Inside_. I, I just. I don't understand you I don't get how you can be so,  _so-_  I  _Don't Like_  it. And  _The Way_  you  _Speak_  to Ma'am...!" And and she, she doesn't, she...

Glimmer Almost smiles. It's chillingly similar to Ma'am and the way she Watches. And so when she moves closer a few more steps Adora really can't help the way her body retreats.

"We've lived together for  _weeks_ ," it's low and even and Different. "And that's the most you've said to me. In the meetings, on missions, you never..."

Strategic Retreat to the farthest corner of her bed,  _ooor_  politely making room for Glimmer to sit on the edge? Debates better left to her Voices.

"You say you don't understand me, but you don't really want to." It's not a question. She doesn't respond. Glimmer turns to her and the curl of her mouth bares teeth in what should be a smile, and there's a laugh breathless and bitter and, "You've never wanted to."

Glimmer just digs under skin, meaning to, without meaning to, she can't tell; Glimmer digs and it might as well just drill through her bones the way she gasps out words as though it pains her,

"I think I  _Hate_  it here." Like her head is stuffed full of wool, heat and muffled and pressure and she  _can't_  "I think I miss The Horde."

_ScreamingSingingRinging **S** he-Ra **Ho** nor **Bal** ance **Peac** e **Power**_

_**Y** _

_**O** _

_**U** _

_**P** _

_**R** _

_**O** _

_**M** _

_**I** _

_**S** _

_**E** _

_**D** _

And Glimmer stops trying to smile. Blinks and wipes at the moisture in her eyes. She Watches and Adora just waits and weathers The Cacophony.

Eventually, and so  _so_  quietly,

"What do you miss about it?"

...

"I... The order. I knew my place, I knew everyone's place we all, I knew what to say what to do, I... The drills. Patrolling with Catra. Climbing the tallest spire to watch the sun before curfew. My, err- Catra and mine, our bunk... I miss the soap scrub and I m-miss... "

"... Your companion?"

Sure. Yeah. Yes! That's what she...

"Do you want to go back?" But she  _can't_  do that She. She shakes her head. "Why'd you leave?" Of Course.

 _The Question_.

"I..." She. She just. "I stopped dreaming."

"Were they good dr-"

" _No._ "

"Oh." Glimmer doesn't really get it. struggling with her confusion with, "I'm sorry." She says nothing. The pressure is back but not in her head. In her throat and chest and it hurts like carving Catra's name into her flesh hadn't. Burns stings it's excruciating it's unbearable it it's just swelling up and

"Don't be. I. Wa- I want wanted, I Wanted to-"

"You didn't. You left. You aren't going back. Whatever happened there and...  _Mystacor_... was kinda the exact opposite of want."

...

"... If you'd wanted anything from them, anything to  _do_  with them, you wouldn't be preparing to infect their headquarters." Yeah. Sure. Maybe.

"You confuse me."

"Yeah," that smile looks quite a bit more natural. "Ditto."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter is long. This took quite a bit of rewriting. I enjoy Glimmer but she's super hard for me to write. Blame Glimmer for the wait on this.
> 
> I spent way too much money on tickets for the first weekend o' Jazzfest but I'm finally going to go to New Orleans and I've wanted to do that for over a decade so. Woooo! 
> 
> Been in a weird place lately. Tryna get right. Maybe it shows. Anywho I gotta go work peeeeace


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The person you've made yourself out to be would feel sorry for what you've done to me

Consciousness isn't a luxury.

But it is fleeting.

* * *

_Hu-hurts._

* * *

" _-ould thank me... -ateful little fil... -U LOOK AT_   _ **ME!**_ "

* * *

It's dark.

And quiet.

There's just one small sound. Something harsh and uncomfortable. Like a hitch in the

It's her. The sound of air wheezing into her lungs.

AndItHurts.

Everything hurts.

* * *

She groans and squirms, flinching away from the  _Ow_. One of her eyes won't open, swollen and crusted shut. The other's hardly better, the amorphous blob that greets her is vaguely familiar. Blinking only turns bleary to fuzzy and

"Eat before you starve, moron."

A tray is thrown to the floor and Lonnie leaves.

The mouthfuls she manages are unappetizing and what she imagines eating sand to be like. Hurts to swallow, sits like something heavy and rotten in her stomach.

She curls back up.

* * *

She startles awake the next time Lonnie arrives. One of her ears twitches and even that hurts.

The tray is set down decidedly gently. Lonnie doesn't leave though, not yet.

"You just couldn't do it. Had everything going for you.  _You!_  Out of  _Everyone_." Lonnie sucks her teeth. Turns on her heel and leaves.

* * *

She's awake and everything hurts. How she'd managed to ignore that before...

Lonnie doesn't even look surprised to see her conscious. Stands outside the cell with a expression harsh and stubborn and everything that Lonnie is and will ever be.

She blinks slow, head cocking slightly.

"You're not special." And it's a growl from the girl outside her cramped little cell. "You're  _not_. So why?"

And Catra waits but Lonnie just glares.

"Why what?"

Her tray is slammed onto the ground outside her cell.

* * *

Lonnie sits on the ground, knees bent, back leaning against the wall next to her cell.

It's late. Well past curfew. She doesn't know how long Lonnie had been sitting, waiting. At some point she'd pushed the trash with congealed sustenance into the cell.

And very suddenly,

"'Rogelio bites like a mother fucker, that Lonnie one kicks, and that scrawny little blonde? OOuf, he's a real sweet one, just cries and cries and takes it!'"  _What the fuck...?_  "'But don't touch those other two. They're off limits. Only Shadow Weaver gets to play with em.'"

...

She's. She's really not certain what...

"You're not special. Not you not her. So why aren't either of you dead? I've done everything right. I've fought for it just as hard so why? Tell me why!"

"Adora's not here-" Lonnie slams a palm against the floor and she can't flinch. Body too sore and stiff. "...I dunno. Shadow Weaver always. Always said that she just liked to see me squirm... I guess it was the same for Adora but. But also not."

"They'll kill you. You know that right?" She stares at Lonnie and Lonnie,  _eventually_ , glances over her shoulder. Scowling. Surprise surprise. "After what you did, and now that Shadow Weaver's awake... I don't know why they've kept you this long, but they're gonna kill you."

"'cause I'm not special."

"No, " and Lonnie pushes herself up, jerks her gaze away with a set jaw and arms crossing. "You're not."

"Will you be sad when I'm gone?"

* * *

Kyle brings the next tray. He stands there a while but she's facing the wall, leaning her head and shoulder against it. He says,

"I always admired you." and she doesn't turn to face him.

Eventually he walks away.

* * *

"You should stop. Even Scorpia has managed to stay away." They could wear matching scowls if only Lonnie was scowling. Maybe the soldier is dying, but even that seems... It's unsettling.

"I wouldn't." Lonnie says and it's so sudden she starts. "I  _won't_. Be sad when you're gone. I won't miss you either."

And there's the scowl, brow furrowed and everything. Fierce and angry.

"You're being kind." She just resists the urge to laugh but damn if Lonnie doesn't threaten her composure making faces like that.

"You're fucking crazy," the soldier growls. It's sweet. "I wouldn't-"

Lonnie gasps as the constant hum of this place quiets and she is plunged into darkness.

Her cell is open. Everything has shut down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cuz yeah they aren't the only ones hurt is just their story I'm telling ya know?
> 
>  
> 
> I was supposed to use this chapter to tackle a really big issue and then I Didn't. Woopwoop. Just got my hands on magic might skip sleep to jam out.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I want to be good I want to be good I want to be good, do you like me better?
> 
> OR
> 
> I hate you so much that it makes me sick, I still can't trust myself with you you know

"I trust you."

And she stands outside of the cell. Watches in a way that could be passionless. But as all things involving Ma'am, this is careful and calculated.

Two blades forged of the same fire couldn't be more different. A honed edge, this woman. Her daughter isn't exactly a mistake just. Dull. Thrown aside in a war too advanced for her. And better blades have had a far worse fate.

A burning Sword hisses from her lap and she can feel the way They've perished and failed and fallen.

So this gleaming razors edge, winged and watching her and respectful without reserve, a cloaked dagger in the night, she allows to draw blood. She sets aside The Sword and it's buzzing hive of voices, permits invasion.

But there is none.

No slice, no intrusion.

And again,

"I trust you." It's. An insinuation? She's doesn't know she's not entirely certain why that makes so little sense for being such a simple statement.

"I don't understand," the admission comes low and slow. And she receives a smile, chuckle, slight shake of the head. Still no approach. That reverent representative of royalty stays just outside her cell and smiles and it's a pattern.

And her mind whirls.

* * *

The Voices are restless.

She has been dreaming of Light Hope but she wears the face of Shadow Weaver and speaks with the damning voice of Ma'am and tells Adora that she knows  _NothingNothing_  and that there is  _NoNoHonor_  and that  _SufferFailurePunishment_  awaits her.

And The Sword burns in her palm like molten metal.

* * *

It pulses like a heartbeat but slow and powerful. And she's certain the burn of it is Not just in her head. Doesn't stop her from squeezing the hilt harder, leveling the end of Etheria's most magical blade underneath Scorpia's chin.

The Force Captain is calm. Smiling with a patience all her own. Scorpia had always been like that. She wasn't meant for this work, that Horde. Truly her circumstances are unfortunate.

A dark drop of blood is beading up between the blade's edge and the softest part of Scorpia's throat.

"Give me one good, honest reason." There's Authority in her order, something grave.

And a beat of silence.

Two three four.

That dark bead rolls down Scorpia's throat.

Four five six and the Princesses at her back shift, Glimmer steps up to her and says,

"We're  _Different_. You don't have to do this."

* * *

The Plan is simple.

Cut the power in six minutes, infect the system two minutes later. Glimmer can teleport the Princesses out and it  _Should_  be just enough time to follow Scorpia to Catra's cell and bust them all out of this pit of ghostly reverie.

Phantoms stalk these halls, whisper praise and secrets of the deepest dark in her ears. Things to chill her blood more than opening gaping smiles over the throats of the subdued.

They don't even need Scorpia. She knows these halls and winding corridors like she knows Horde poison like she knows a battlefield like she knows that Catra is close close closer ever closer.

She can tell she can feel it somewhere deep, beyond the blood and bones that shiver under her skin.

But she can't imagine ridding herself or this world of Scorpia's presence. Unnecessary, maybe, probably, but she. She  _can't_. The dwindling smiles are enough as it is, and soon they'll stop  _She_  can stop and be done with it, rid of it all she can she can just

The dark is not unwelcome but she'd hoped by this time they'd be in the forever rotting away Cell Block. That they're close and the trouble they've run into has been minimal, it should be a blessing she should be grateful she should she really...

She isn't.

There's something. Twisting churning writhing. It burns and bites, furious and alive and  _terrified_  inside of her. Like it's too late like she'd made a mistake coming here like Mermista had been right.

_A Trap._

"She's not alone. Lonnie is with her." Because Scorpia can see better in pitch black than most do in broad daylight. And it's too bad really. She'd always tolerated Lonnie. Maybe they could have been close. In another life they had been.

" _By The Honor Of_ -"

And the emergency lights kick on, painting them and their surroundings a Hordak smile red. And there they are, Lonnie and Cat

...

She. She's not certain  _who_... How  _anyone_  could've...

The Sword falls from her fingers. Two heads swivel and she could scream.

"Shadow Weaver." is all that Scorpia says and it's enough. Lonnie lurches towards Catra, grabbing at her and shouting, Adora knows that Lonnie is shouting even if she can't discern it over the skull splitting ringing in her ears.

There's one thing she knows, one thing she understands in this moment. The Sword, The Voices, The She-Ra is angry.

She doesn't stoop for it but The Sword is in her hands, searing her flesh and shouting at her about Peace but that's just a word again. There are rumbles and the distorted noise of distant screams and she charges forward blood roaring in her ears.

She's vaguely aware of Scorpia circling the opposite way towards the Cell and Lonnie tightens her grip on the ruined Catra and

_**Oh** Y **o** u **Swee** tGi **r** l._

And The Shadows crawl pulse breathe and it's not real because it can't be real and She is in a coma She can't Can't CAN'T be here real can't be She can't be She just can't

" _I kn **ew** if I  **wa** it **ed** y **o** u c **ou** l **dn** 't  **res** i **s** t._"

Like fingers crawling up her spine and she spins, once twice. She's surrounded by the dark and she'll explode at this rate with the way her lungs heave.  _And The Screaming..._

"Adora, my honey girl..."

_I'mSorry_

"You've been a Bad Girl... "

_I'mSoSorry_

"A Bad Soldier..."

_IDidn'tMeanTo_

"And you need to be Punished."

She's here. Right there. Eyes narrowed behind her mask and Adora knows there's a smile lurking behind there too. Can feel it, the way the mangled skin slides over her flesh, teeth biting lips sucking. The laughter comes like a whip cracking and she flinches for the sharp pain of it.

"Ooh, and crying! Really, I thought I taught you better. Oh! You precious thing, I'm not mad, give me your hand and it'll be over."

No she doesn't want she doesn't doesn't doesn't doesn't want.

"That's it, Good Girl. I'll make it better. Just-"  _NoNoNoI'mSorryICan'tIDon'tIWon't_

Cold, gnarled hands grab just one of hers and,

"I'll make it all Good."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. In my defense my life has taken a turn. It gets better!! She'll be fiiiine


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh darkness, I am nerveless

She doesn't mean to breathe it out. Lonnie is so close and the dark might just amplify the softest whisper to a scream. She doesn't mean to breathe it out but in the darkness she sees Scorpia and Adora- fierce, scowling Adora gripping her sword so tight her hand trembles.

She doesn't mean to breathe it out but it swells and swells and swells in her throat until it bursts past her teeth in a nearly pained gasp,

" _Adora!_ "

And Lonnie jerks, stumbles a step towards her,

"Fuck.  _Fuck!_ " Lonnie spits the curses out, turns to face her but she's not quite in the right direction and even if she was Catra can't pay attention to her, to her wheeling hands groping the darkness trying to reach to grasp. No no.

She's watching Adora. Adora with eyes colder, sharper than anything in Frosta's realm. Adora hefting the sword and pointing it almost exactly at them, lips forming words and then the emergency lights blink on.

Lonnie reaches her in the same second, violently pulling her back from a place without heaving lungs or pounding hearts or heavy feelings, gripping at her shoulders tight enough to bruise.

It's too quick.

A Sword clattering noisily to the floor.

And she's back to watching Adora. She can't help it or the heavy ache of tears like a brand shoved down her throat, into her eyes. Because that horror, sharp and shocking and  _Different_  than any sort she'd ever seen Adora affect...

It's too quick.

And Lonnie pulls her into a hold that's more than excruciating for her broken, battered body, shouting for Adora to stay back, stay away or,

"I'll break her neck, I  _swear_  I will!"

It's too quick.

The way that Horror changes to a fury, something savage and dark and terrifying. Adora hooks the toe of her boot under the sword and flips it into her palm like it's easy and natural and begins to charge.

It's too quick.

Lonnie tenses and Catra sinks claws into the soldier's thigh, deep deep deeper until the girl growls and punches at her. It's a mistake. Her grip  _just_  loosens and it's all Catra needs to bite that restricting arm with all her might...!

And then laughter. So low it could almost be imagined as she breaks away from Lonnie. Laughter and a voice so deeply carved into her memory it might forever taint her. Because  _of course_.

Adora freezes.

It's too quick.

Lonnie tackles her from behind.

Scorpia shouts.

And it's just too quick the way shadows writhe and rise and rush, doming up and around Adora, blocking sight sound smell of her.

"Fuck!" She bucks, jerking hissing fighting even as Lonnie boxes her ears and beats at her head until blood begins to tickle across her scalp and sting into her eyes. "Fucking let me-  _bitch!_  Just-"

She should be nicer to Scorpia. Some other time, maybe. When Scorpia isn't wrangling an angry Lonnie and she isn't scramble-stumbling to her feet to charge and.

And.

It was all really just too damn quick.

She doesn't even reach the dome of dark before it's collapsing, and maybe she imagines the way the shadows comprising it form jagged-toothed mouths to let out noiseless screams. They drop and go still and there's the Nightmare herself.

Standing tall and menacing, too close to Adora. Her hair is still and there's That Sword. Sharp and red under the emergency lights. And she could almost believe it's ink dripping from that  _so-very-sharp_  tip.

"Yu- _youu_ -" the rasp cuts off with a twist and powerful jerk of That Sword, up and to the left. And it's not ink that splatters, pools underneath Shadow Weaver as she collapses with a noise low and animal and fatally pained.

Not ink painting Adora's astonished face or shaking hands, dripping paler from her jaw and trembling chin as huge tears overflow from too-wide eyes and her lips shape the words  _I'msorryForgiveme_  like a prayer, like a spell, like it'll chase away the dark creeping behind her eyes.

Adora's knees hit the floor and her head bows close to Shadow Weaver's and her mouth keeps desperately begging forgiveness even as she can't give voice to the pleas and.

"Adora! Adora we,  _damnit!_   _Lonnie!_  Adora, we have to go!"

She doesn't even look up. Reaches towards Shadow Weaver's masked face to clumsily stroke at it and smear blood all over the surface.

"Catra can you  _please-_ " Lonnie shouts and Scorpia grunts and there's a crash behind her but she.  _Adora_...

"Y-yeah! I got it, I'll... " This is a new face to add to the ever changing catalogue in her brain. Adora and her evolutions. She's not sure what to label this one. She doesn't think she should. "Adora we-"

Adora's head snaps up and the tears slice pale lines across her bloodied cheeks and her eyes are wild with fear and confusion and  _SoMuchHurt_. She might not even see Catra standing before her, just outside of the slowly growing puddle.

Like she doesn't Know can't understand what she just.

And finally a gasp far louder than it should be, shuddering and choking and gurgling wetly like it's Adora nearly in chunks on the floor. A gasp and her face crumples, head bows. She begins to weep.

* * *

She's not even angry to see the Shiny One. What's-Her-Name. Sparkle or whatever. That would require energy and an amount of passion she can't spare right now.

_Adora_ , she...

She's gripping Shadow Weaver's mask, eyes focused on the blood-slicked surface, fingers slipping sliding pushing through the dark of it messily, absently.

The weird talkative one is there, the two uh, (is she supposed to know those Princesses? Is it bad that she doesn't? Like yeah, they were at Princess Prom but like,  _who_..?) Other Ones, that pretty man-boy with the moustache, and of course Starlight-What's-It. And she should say something to them, shouldn't she? Greet them or thank them or...

But hey, Scorpia right?

Serious and stern and a little blood-stained herself from throwing them over either of her shoulders and all but busting down the walls to get them out.

These weirdos, this Embarrassment of Princesses, had turned the Horde's technology against itself. Nevermind anything that beeps or boops here also acts as an explosive device... Talk about carnage to make Hordak proud.

"Hello all," decidedly subdued. It's not the first time she's heard Scorpia talk like this but the gravity of it... "We, err... mission success?" Even her anxious little laugh is. Like it's been throttled out of her.

A rumble, the shriek and groan of rending metal, an explosion that makes them all - well... Adora's still... - flinch. And out of all of them it's Shiny that composes herself first, orders handsome waif to get them out of here.

And only Adora looks back.

* * *

The Rebellion's Shadow Weaver is.

_Bright_.

And how The Embarrassment reacts to her presence is really very. Odd.

She rushes to them to... To touch  _Everyone_.

_And No-one Flinches._

She cups Sunshine's face, touches they're foreheads together and both of their eyes squeeze shut, low laughter. The Other Ones get squeezes on their shoulders, fond smiles. The Loud Mechanic and the Louder Sailor get respectful nods, the Mechanic lurches in for a very sudden hug and so the Sailor just dives in with a shout that proceeds to draw in the rest of them and.

She stands tense with a Scorpia shifting anxiously and an Adora holding The Mask and Looking Back.

And so Their Shadow Weaver breaks away and she is So Suddenly somber. Approaches them slowly( _ominously?_ ). Catra doesn't like it, doesn't like the way her gaze lingers on Adora. The frown the furrowed brow the.

"Queen Angella it's ahh, I um. It's been a while!" Scorpia steps just in front of them, close enough for Catra touch and she does. A grateful hand on the small of her back. "I, err. I surrender, I guess?" This is why she never needed more friends. Hearing Scorpia laugh like that is just.

Shadow- Err,  _Queen Angella_  (just thinking that leaves a bitter taste in her mouth!) murmurs something, lightly lays hands on Scorpia! And, and she can't. This  _isn't_  normal.

_No wonder Adora..._

And  _Oh!_  Adora, she's so. She jerks when Catra leans into her, turns misty eyes towards her and from the way they cut around she's only just aware of where they are.

Or where they  _Aren't_.

She blinks rapidly and there's a tremor in her jaw and.

"Adora?" Another jerk and she's only got Adora's profile to watch now. "You brought everyone back to me safely and. I can't thank you enough for that."

The Queen  _bows_. From the waist, very deep, and it's so. Just, what  _Are_  these people? Watching her and she  _hates_  it, hates that look in their eyes, how they...

Like they could  _ever_  begin to understand...! It'd be laughable if it weren't so fucking-

"Welcome to Bright Moon," and the Queen turns to her. "I. Wish you were here under better circumstances... Come, let's get you clean and see if we can do anything for your... " her everything? Yeah that'd be great. And it's definitely not a trap, right?

_Whatever._

She finds Adora's hand to squeeze and nods once she gets a squeeze back. If this is to be her new prison... Well, at least she'll have Adora.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter I've had planned from day one. Was a long journey getting here. Feels good to get this out ya dig? Sorta, "This house is clean."
> 
> And now we get to play in the Aftermath Sandbox!!! Fun.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There must be a part of me still holding on to you

What is it to Want?

It's easy enough to distinguish the opposite of it, but to Want, to be Wanting...

**B.**

She can't help feeling ill at the idea of those things. Sharp stabs of nausea coiling her stomach into knots.

**L.**

There is no water. No pools puddles ponds. No ocean close enough, nor rivers lakes streams. There isn't a canteen or overflowing glass, no faucet no showerhead.

**O.**

There is no water.

**O.**

No distortions of light color sound. No current pulling her under heavy, crashing waves.

**D.**

But She Is Drowning.

There is no water and she cannot breathe the way It fills her mouth nose ears eyes, lapping at her knees warm wet creeping crawling staining  _ruining-!_

There is no water and she can't break the surface and She Wants.

 _SheWantsToTakeItBack_.

* * *

The Mask is in her hands.

Coagulation sludge-like, she drags her fingers through and spells Her name in She-Ra's Script. Again again again.

There's burning in her throat and copper on her tongue.

The flavor of a death rattle, the taste of Her Last Words.

And as their borrowed skip jerks to, the magnetic pull of her own True North brings her eyes to toppling spires and all the bodies she left in her wake. The Screaming is within and without.

* * *

Catra is not an anchor.

More like a boat or a barge or some other glorious seafaring vessel, Catra slices through water like a knife  _LikeASwordThrough_ -

Catra slices through water and waves, scooping her water **B.L.O.O.D.** logged body from the depths and the sun isn't warm enough on her chilled flesh but it's there. There with Catra, with Scorpia, with Ma'am and the eyes of her Allies. There and watching and Wanting

And Ma'am. Ma'am, simultaneously stern and soft. Ma'am that looks at her in patterns of Warm and Understanding. Ma'am that Can't Thank Her Enough.

When in the first place she does Not deserve thanks.

 _It_ 's tacky and half-dried on her hands. In the crevices and cracks, under her fingernails, in the toughened skin of her calluses, painted vividly across her knuckles  _SheCanStillTasteIt_

She does not deserve thanks. Not for this. Not for anything. She had been The Best, Her The Best. But She is gone. And Adora killed Her.

* * *

One of her ears was shredded down to nearly a nub, the tatters of it ugly and gruesome, hanging by strings of flesh and fur. The other ear is a little mangled but only really missing the tip. Jagged tears and uneven edges remain where She had tried to rip the thing off.

It looks like She had even tried to pluck out one of Catra eyes, the slices around it evident of such. Broken nose, ribs, tail. Lesions and bruising and burns.

Catra is cleaned and wrapped in bandages and Adora can't even help. Stands there cradling The Mask and trying to watch the process unfold.

It's mostly successful so long as she keeps her blinking to a minimum.

Even The Briefest Dark Is Enough.

Catra watches her right back. Eyes pitiless but not cruel. Catra even thanks the doe-eyed man tending her after his service and he bows out and away with no further prompting and a smile neither of them return.

The silence is an oppressive, choking thing. Thick enough to cut.  _LIKeASwoRdThROugH_

And a split-lipped smile that exposes the edge of one broken tooth, gem-like eyes nearly glowing,

"Hey Adora." And it shouldn't be as it is. Phrase so simple, grin so well-worn. She's used to it isn't she? Received such a gift on a daily basis throughout nearly the entirety of her life. This isn't new, this isn't different.

But it just...

It strikes her suddenly and she laughs. Laughs and it aches, a muscle never used that she is now overtaxing. She laughs and tears spring up and The Mask drops and she.

There's a hand in hers, guiding her to sit and a body presses against hers. Tight enough against her side that as she laughs harder and the ache becomes an agony, the body beside her shakes. A head of coarse hair leans on her shoulder and an arm snakes around her back and the pain is  _unbearable_

* * *

It is dark and there is no water and she is not drowning.

The torture agony ache has dulled to a throb in her veins bones skull. In time with every beat of her heart, every draw of air into her lungs. This world is not new and this place is familiar but everything is  _Different_.

Glimmer had said something to that end hadn't she?

She didn't have to kill Scorpia because she,  _they_  were Different.

But Different didn't mean Better or Worse or  _Good_.

She Wants this to feel wrong, this world without living shadows. But it's.

It's just Different.

 _She's_  Different.

And yet the night still calls to her, instills restlessness like bugs under her skin, the kind that'd always driven her from bed with a sort of breathless desperation. She doesn't have to run from shadows, her nightmares are just that. This tangle of limbs that has become her and hers should be far more tempting than

But it's not. Not nearly tempting enough to slow her heart or make her breaths feel any less shallow. And she has the presence of mind to Hate that. She finally, she's, she's got  _Everything_  she ever...

Why does she feel such an emptiness?

Why is it still not enough?

* * *

Ma'am finds her where she usually finds Ma'am. There's a strength in the Late King, maybe. An answer a spark a...

She doesn't bow, doesn't salute.

The hole punched in her chest, that yawning chasm teeming with poisonous burning pain, the one begging to spill out her guts and blood and a scream not entirely her own - it spites her habits with sluggish trembling limbs that just won't move the way they always have.

And Ma'am only just pauses when she sees Adora, a breath, a beat of the heart, and then she approaches. Just within arms reach. And so they gaze upon His Effigy together.

Eventually,

"I was sure sleeping would be easier," Ma'am murmurs and laughs but not with any real humor. "I had hoped it would, anyway."

And if only her muscles would listen to the commands she issues, that she might nod and agree and keep the fragile odd quiet between them.

What she says, what she does,

"I killed someone I didn't ever wish to." wrapping arms around herself and squeezing hard enough that maybe the raw edges of that festering canyon in her chest cavity will weep a little less, a little more. Punishment and relief in equal parts.

And there's a slow shift beside her, weight from one foot to the other, wings flaring and settling, a slight turn of the body.

One step closer and she's obliged to watch Ma'am instead of the Late King. That most regal brow is furrowed, mouth downturned and eyes...

A woman of contradictions, the Queen of this Rebellion. Stars blanketing the heavens, humbling and expansive and impossibly unfathomable and

Another step closer and Adora blinks and breaks their gaze because it's just Too Much.

Too Much Too Often Too Confusing.

And two blades forged of the same fire couldn't be more alike.

"It was unavoidable?" It's phrased like a question but rings of statement and what Ma'am means is  _It had to be done._  but even then she senses this is not a comfort for her. In the tilt of a Regal Head towards a Late King.

"They Taught Us Better than-" a sharp jerk of the chin and starlight eyes catch on hers and what's left of her lungs is  _squeezed_

Ma'am kneels and starry eyes shimmering, rippling like night reflected off of inky dark waters, words no louder than a held breath,

"There is  _no weakness_  in your loss, Adora. You're allowed to grieve."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long boy is long. Was going to get longer but damn tho. 
> 
> Anyway i gotta work babes I'll be seeing y'all


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, heartlessness is burden

Consciousness is a gradual thing, lapping over her in waves up from her toes and feet and ankles, warm and soft and significant and decidedly slow.

It comes soundless and gentle, washing over her calves knees thighs and hips, crashing rolling flowing up and over and through her bones and blood vessels. It settles over her skin and filters down her extremities and limbs until her heart quickens and breaths come faster and mind buzzes into rightful alertness behind her closed eyelids.

She's awake and alive and the cot she's sinking into isn't nearly as worthy of complaining about because it just smells like her Sunny Girl and nothing could be better. Well... But if she was Too Hot and on the verge of sweating half to death in the cocooning grip of that very girl...

Where is she anyway? The salt dried tight on her skin and the scent of her everywhere, she- _UGH!_  Why is it so  _bright_  here!?... Oh.

Right.

 _Duh_.

But seriously she's way too light sensitive for this place. All glowing crystals and painfully vivid colors and sparkly guards in brilliant armor.

At least she's here now, her and Scorpia. Maybe they can add a little stark and dark to this nauseating shine. She's surprised Adora wasn't - No, she's not surprised Adora wasn't enough, Adora's very...

Where  _is_  she? She  _distinctly_  remembers the beginning of that sweltering cocoon and-  _Oh!_  Ok, well glad she didn't throw a fit over the 'disappearance' of her favorite living creature that would've been...

_Is Adora whispering?_

Huh. What a weirdo.

"Hu-" She chokes on her greeting, tripping over a thick tongue and failing to swallow around a burning dry throat. There's the faint taste of acrid smoke and viscous blood in her mouth, lingering on the back of her tongue like bitter memories of crashing spires and broken bodies.

But what's a little bitterness? Pills to swallow, to choke on to cough around.

And Adora, bent over and cradling That Sword, speaking too fast and low to be discernible - Adora lifts her head and her lips still form near-silent words and her eyes  _glow_. Pupils pale and lit from within, they put the namesake of this castle to shame and color her eyes an unnatural hue of blue and

Brightbrightbright and not Adora, the body's there but that Is Not Adora. It's the Other One, the one that smells like lightning, with a body too big and a face too hard cut, with the tiara with the cape with the

She stops grumbling,  _talking_ , to That Sword. Well. Her teeth click together and her mouth closes and. And The Whispering Doesn't Stop for the longest three seconds.

And The Princess blinks. Quick, sobering things accompanied by little jerking shakes of her head. Her pupils are dark, her eyes a natural hue of Adora-blue and her mouth begins to curl at the edges. A smile tentative and soft.

The Princess is gone.

The Humming Sword quiets with a swirl of departing light in its gem.  _Freaky_. That thing had devoured Shadow Weaver. Her blood, anyway, and Catra wasn't about to-

"Hey Catra." As far as flattery goes, Adora's imitation is of the greatest form. Impressively spot on and it's so easy to smile for her when she puts That Sword down to approach. And that hesitant little grin of hers grows impish as she reaches the bed, perching on the edge - and it  _diiiips_  - and reaching out for Catra.

It's definitely a little weird, a little charged. Like back in Salineas. But without any greater plans to bust down or build up walls. Well, Adora's hand isn't unnaturally large where she cups Catra's face and, and really all those other That Sword features that bothered her so subtly aren't there to ruin and

And Adora's grin spreads like wildfire until nearly all her teeth show, she strokes a thumb over what's going to scar beneath Catra's eye and she says ( _ahem_ , imparts as though it's something secret and utterly sacred),

"This is the part where  _you_  say,  _Hey Adora._ "

And what she wants to say is,  _Are you even real?_  Because this is just... It  _can't_  be. She's dead, super dead. Maybe she had been alive back in that cell in the Fright Zone, but that'd been temporary. The Horde didn't keep captives. Prisoners were worthless and they'd never fight for the cause so why not just execute them?

She'd died. Maybe Adora  _had_  shown up but she'd definitely died before they ever even  _dreamed_  of getting out...

... what she actually says, requests, is,

"Water?"

* * *

The Castle is... Opulent.

Unnecessary.

Inefficient.

Even the kitchens they sneak to for scraps and water from starry-eyed ( _well fed, overly friendly, way too happy_ ) attendants are just so damn...!

She doesn't really get it. All the colors and carved Kings long-dead, and Queens and Princesses and battles lost. They don't have guards following them, not even one! She just. This place is.

Even Adora is tense. Shoulders drawn back, eyes roving, head on a swivel. It's familiar and distinctly protective and it. It weirdly makes her feel better about this place and all it's extravagance. A spot of normalcy, just one thing that makes sense.

She should feel a way about this. This place and what's brought her and the hand warming her palm enough to cause sweat. Good, maybe. Happy like these naïve freaks littering the fortress halls.

She'd done the impossible. She should be celebrating. Should be smiling up at Adora, listening in to her affectionate murmurs of...

But she's awake now. Really truly and fully and things are not dreamlike. The food here sits just as heavily in her stomach as the rations she'd been given in The Cell. Like sand and rotten meat.

Even the shine can't sting her eyes enough to miss the tension in the armored guards, the way their faces are drawn and sharp with stress and they're all Ready.

The Sun is up and the girl on her arm is all the brighter for it but a war still wages. All she'd done was change sides. A fact further cemented by the grim-faced approach of Etheria's shiniest princess and her somber informing of,

"The War Council is gathering."

Oh the comforts Bright Moon provides!

A fortress that boasts its beauty in wide windows letting in tantalizing views of the lush landscape and rich colors draped about on guards and peasants and healthy servants alike and a history carved magnificently into its very walls!

Oh Bright Moon!

Glorious Bright Moon!

Where even a War Council can be made up of pretty Princesses and a beautiful Queen and it's every person she's been raised to hate and kill in one room! All of those chattering Princesses juxtaposed with they, the ex-Force Captain three!

And it's  _So_  distinct. Couldn't be moreso the way they sit three in a row too close together like a unified force against this Embarrassment and just.

Angry Fish is watching her, making no attempts at subtlety as she speaks to the Princess that stinks like flowers crushed underfoot. Flower Girl gets huffed up and still Angry Fish just watches her with eyes entirely too sharp.

Maybe that's a Princess thing. Could explain Scorpia.

"What're  _you_  doing here?" It's low and heated, hissing past her teeth in a way that makes her lips curl. And she has a Right to be here, she-

"Oh you know!" Scorpia slings one gargantuan limb onto the long table they all sit around, leaning forward and drawing eyes with what's nearly a shout, "Just providing invaluable information about The Horde, it's reserve soldiers, where they're posted around Etheria, and where they'll all be regrouping now that their headquarters has been destroyed!"

Scorpia pauses and it. It seems sorta. _Extremely_ deliberate.

"Oh but I'm sure the information  _you_  have about the greater inner workings of The Horde will be equally as helpful as ours, huh Seamista?"

_Holy-_

" _Mer_ mista."

Scorpia apologies and laughs and somewhere in there throws a vicious little smile and wink her way. Between that and the way Adora squeezes her hand in what's almost precisely fifteen second intervals it's.

Well it's a little easier for the hackles to lower. A little easier to look these allied enemies in the eye while they talk about hunting down the remnants of The Horde to destroy maim murder. Oh, but they don't use those words, no.

They say things like  _Capture_ , or  _Incapacitate_.

And, oh, the luxuries these fiends think they can afford.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. How's it? 'm tired. Losing sleep n stuff, but dealing with a lot of issues! Go me, adulting n shit. I saw Game Grumps live. That was pretty neat. them lads funny.
> 
>  
> 
> Anywho, look how not sad this is!! Whoopwhoop!! I'm going to bed goodnight dears ;* @-;-


End file.
